(Meet Me) At the Crossroads
by LianneZ4
Summary: "Happily ever after isn't for guys like us…" "It is this time. It is." AU to Season 2.
1. Prologue

**(MEET ME) AT THE CROSSROADS**

 **Summary:** "Happily ever after isn't for guys like us…" "It is this time. It is." AU to Season 2, written for the second round of WC Reverse Big Bang.

 _A/N: I've been toying with this idea for a while, but it wasn't until now that I finally got it written. Without revealing any real spoilers, this story starts at the end of Season 1 and then takes a different turn. The story is finished; chapters will be posted one at a time over the next few days._

 _At this point, I'd like to thank my two friends from livejournal; aragarna for the original art prompt and treonb for her encouragement and beta-read. They're wonderful people and it's been a great fun to work with them again.  
_

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

Driving as fast as he dares without getting pulled over, Peter dreads that he won't make it to the airport in time.

As it turns out, he needn't have worried. At first, Peter is just relieved that the plane is still there. He wonders if Neal will call him, perhaps stop at his house instead of just disappearing in the wind; a talk, a goodbye, _something._ Isn't it the least he has earned after these last six months? But Peter had known from the first day that it might end like this. On one hand, Kate and freedom, on the other a radius and a leash – it's not hard to figure what Neal will pick. And yet – _it's not like that_ – except it kind of is.

It's not _just_ that, Peter thinks with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. Anklet or not, Neal has a home here. He matters to the team, to Peter; he's making a difference. He has a shot at a real life here, something not built on a lie. Meanwhile Kate is a wild card with her own agenda; Peter doesn't trust her, and he trusts the deal Neal cut with the OPR even less. Getting on that plane might sound like freedom, but deep down the whole thing feels off and _wrong_.

For the sake of objectiveness, Peter tries to imagine himself in Neal's place. A flash thought, he considers if it was El in Kate's place – and he's startled, because it's like a far reaching epiphany. Grudgingly, Peter acknowledges he hasn't been exactly sympathetic to Neal's plea and his insistence that Kate was on his side; his blind devotion to the woman that barely deserved it. But if it was El waiting there… Peter imagines their reunion, sweet and tender, holding El after six months apart. He would be going crazy if they had been separated like this; he would want to kiss her, to be with her. Kate isn't El, but to Neal she is, and Peter finally understands a bit what has been going through Neal's head these past few months.

 _But he still wouldn't get on that plane._

Because it wouldn't be right. If he was a thief, and people had been hurt by his actions – he would stay, because it's about justice, balance. Making amends.

El would understand that.

Peter can easily predict what Neal will do. He will give him a smile that's half-apologetic and a bit too wide, then go on to reunite with Kate and flee away to places unknown – unless Peter stops him. The question is, does he have the right?

He didn't expect this when he took Neal's deal. He was ready for keeping an eye on Caffrey, for making sure Neal didn't run, didn't turn the FBI into his personal playground and didn't screw up badly enough to get himself tossed back in prison. But somehow in the middle of being Neal's handler, their respect for each other has turned into care and affection and they became a team. They became friends.

But despite their friendship, despite the life that Peter is offering him here, Neal will always pick Kate over him.

It hurts.

Peter barely finishes the thought when hears footsteps. Someone is approaching. Neal is here.

This is his moment.

He has one shot at changing Neal's mind and stopping him from making a mistake. He can't use his badge, can't threaten or guilt or bully Neal into staying. He can just ask him to stay and hope that it's enough.

And when it isn't, he will at least get his chance to say goodbye.

o - o - o

Neal has been awaiting this very moment for nearly five years, yet he never expected it to be this hard.

He wants to run to the plane, to scoop Kate into his arms. They haven't hugged each other since his arrest, haven't kissed since their first breakup over six years ago, haven't held a real conversation in over nine months. After everything that's happened, this is their chance, the universe finally giving them a break. It's their happily ever after, all that they promised to each other – it's his happy ending. It _is._

Damn Peter for making this so goddamn complicated.

But Peter's words shake Neal to the core, because he's not arresting him, he's not denouncing Kate, he's not talking to him as an FBI agent. He's here as a friend, and he's voicing many of the hard truths that Neal has known deep down but refused to acknowledge.

 _If this is his happy ending, why does it feel like running?_

"Did I change your mind?" Peter asks hopefully, and Neal doesn't have an answer.

He wants to be with Kate. He also doesn't want to leave – but the recent events are still fresh on his mind.

For the last few months, Neal has been a puppet in Fowler's game. He has come atop for the moment, but if he stays, where's the guarantee that it will last? Something sharp and painful clutches at his heart –

He can't. Not when there is Kate and freedom ahead. Part of being a good thief is knowing when to grab your prize, and Neal is one of the best. The plane is waiting for him.

Neal makes a few steps, and then he stops. He has to say goodbye, and he wants Peter to understand. He turns around.

"Peter–"

 _ **BOOM.**_

A shock wave. His body is thrown on the ground –

Neal turns around and his heart stops for a moment –

" _No no no NOO!"_

" _No, stay back! Stay back, Neal"_

" _LET ME GO! KATE, NO!_

The plane is up in flames.

* * *

 _A/N: Reviews are very much appreciated._


	2. Part I

**PART I**

The walls are dull and gray.

 _He turned around and saw –_

The sea of orange around him is blinding.

 _The flames, there were flames everywhere –_

He stares at the bars and wishes, prays it was six months ago and he had never made the deal with Peter –

 _Peter who held him back, fought him and eventually knocked him to the ground; held him until he stopped struggling, held him as he broke down and sobbed –_

He did this.

Neal is back in prison, only this time there are no lines on the wall, no counting of days until the end of this nightmare –

 _Kate is gone._

o - o - o

Peter barely fights off the exhaustion as he unlocks the door to his house. He smiles tiredly and stumbles when Satchmo greets him with his usual enthusiasm. He sets his briefcase on the floor and pets Satchmo until he stops barking, then takes off his coat and hangs it right next to Elizabeth's. He smiles when he hears the noises from the kitchen – El must have been home for a while, then. "Hey, hon," he calls aloud and picks up his briefcase.

El is standing by the stove, skillfully chopping some vegetables and adding them into a big pan. "Hey honey. So how did it go?"

Wordlessly, Peter pulls her into a hug and just holds her for a moment.

 _It's so good to be home._

"Peter?" asks El at last.

Right. Stepping away, Peter reaches into his suit and shows her his badge. "I'm reinstated."

El grins. "See? I told you, Peter Burke, you're the best agent around and they damn well know it. Besides, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I shot at Fowler, El," says Peter with a grimace. "I stopped Neal from getting on that plane. What if Kate was killed because I showed up?"

"Peter, you can't say that."

"I just…" Peter shakes his head. "Anyway, the DOJ figured I had nothing to do with the plane – since I was suspended, it wasn't my responsibility to stop Neal from leaving. They can't prove I didn't know whether Fowler was wearing a vest or not, so… They didn't believe me about Mentor, they still suspect Neal of Kate's murder and they were pretty adamant that he was trying to escape. It was _implied_ that I should stay away from the investigation and the second I take one step out of line, I'll be before that board again or outright out of a job."

"But you're not going to stop," says El matter-of-factly. "So when are you going to pick Neal up?"

"It's complicated."

"What do you mean? The woman he loved was just brutally murdered - they can't really leave him in prison for something he didn't do!"

"I know that. And if I could, I would get him out of there the very second– " Peter looks away. "I went to see him, El. He's… it doesn't look good. You should have seen him – he had this haunted look, like if he was still at that airstrip. He's thinner, he's probably depressed and he looked exhausted – I don't think he's sleeping right."

"Well, would you?" asks El pragmatically.

"Hell, no. I still have nightmares about it – I keep thinking, if I hadn't stopped him, if I hadn't gotten there in time…"

"Neal could have been dead."

"Yes."

 _Death._

He's lucky, thinks Peter as he holds El close. If anything happened to her – he doesn't think he could handle it.

"I have to get him out of there," he says aloud.

El looks at him with complete confidence. "You will."

She blinks and tightens her hug around him – with a jolt, Peter realizes she is hurting almost as badly as him. But she has faith in him, and that somehow gives him the bit of strength and helps him breathe.

He has to talk to Hughes about fixing this injustice. And then he has to make sure that Neal does the right thing, even if he has to shake him or drag him out of prison himself.

o - o - o

It's a good con, a necessary con – it's the best for everyone. Yet instead of the familiar rush and excitement, Mozzie feels empty. He wonders what he has done to deserve all this and what compelled him to give the promises that are hurting him to his very core.

He has learned to misdirect and lie before he even learned to talk. Still, he has never been a particularly good actor, and if Neal was just a bit less off his game, a bit more _himself_ , he would see right through him. But Mozzie is the front man on this, he has agreed to this, and now he couldn't back out even if he wanted. Besides, just because he despises this course of action doesn't mean their reasons aren't justified.

"I liquidated some assets," he says a bit stiffly. Neal is sitting opposite him, staring at God knows what – he probably hasn't heard a single word Mozzie had said in the last five minutes. "Hey!" he snaps sharply when Neal doesn't reply. "Are you listening to me at all?"

Neal jerks out of his daze and looks at him. "I'm sorry Moz, you were saying?"

"I said I liquidated some assets, just like we agreed three days ago," repeats Mozzie patiently and tries to hold his breath.

Neal blinks. "Right." He gives him a ghost of smile. "Thanks, Moz. You're the best."

The worst about this is that Neal really means it. Seeing the haunted eyes, the broken shadow of his old friend, knowing what he knows –

' _One wrong step and it will all be for nothing,'_ whispers the voice in Mozzie's head, and it's right. It's for the best – this has already cost them so much; Neal has suffered too much to risk it all now on foolish sentimentality. And so Moz plays his part, even though he might go to hell for this one day.

But until then, he's here, and so he listens to Neal's plans for catching Kate's killer – he acts the part of a loyal friend and does his job. If Neal doesn't kill him the moment he finds out the truth, he will eventually realize it was worth it in the end.

o - o - o

"I don't know, Peter. Are you really sure about this?"

Peter freezes. "Of course I'm sure – what are you suggesting, Reese? What do you mean you _don't know?!"_

"Peter, stop. And for Heaven's sake, stop looking at me like I just murdered your firstborn, you know I have to ask these things," says Hughes wearily. "You want Caffrey back, fine; I'm just as upset as you about what the DOJ did to him–"

"It was cruel and inhuman! They threw him behind bars just after he witnessed Moreau's death – you know that's not justice. 'Bravery and Integrity' – how can we even call ourselves FBI if we let this stand?"

"Peter, I said I agree with you. You don't have to convince me." Hughes pauses. "Just tell me this – can Caffrey handle being back at the office? Because if you put the anklet back on and this goes wrong – if he messes up a case, if he runs, if he breaks down and can't do his part, he'll go back to prison and you'll be out of a job. You've heard the DOJ – I won't be able to protect either of you."

"It won't happen," says Peter confidently.

"Are you sure?" Hughes presses. "Because if you're wrong –"

Peter explodes. "And what do you want me to say, Reese? What exactly are you suggesting? Neal is a human being –"

"He's a convict first to them," says Hughes ruthlessly. "We can argue to have him moved to a lower security prison; we can get him a shrink or maybe even commute some of his sentence, but I won't be able to do that if Caffrey goes back on the anklet and then screws up. So tell me: can he handle it?"

"He can," replies Peter resolutely. He might be lying through his teeth; he has no idea. But the injustice of it all makes him want to rage, because Neal doesn't deserve to be in prison – he would have been free today if the OPR hasn't gone back on their promise. For all Peter knows, Neal could have been living happily with Kate on the other side of the world ( _France,_ Peter thinks, _they would have gone to France_ ) if Peter hadn't shown up at the airport when he did. All those ifs and maybes – they don't matter, because it is what it is and they have to deal with the here and now.

Peter can't turn back time, he can't give Neal Kate back, can't even give him his freedom. He can only put the anklet back on, find Kate's killer and hope it will be enough.

 _If Neal can't do it, if it's not enough…_ But it has to be, because this is all that Peter has.

"Very well then," says Hughes at last. "I'll start the paperwork and contact the DOJ. And Peter–"

"Yes, sir?" says Peter, already halfway to the door.

"Say hello to Caffrey from me."

Peter smiles grimly. "I will. Thanks, Reese."

"I hope you know what you're doing," says Hughes seriously.

' _So do I.'_

But leaving Neal at prison now… Peter doesn't think he could live with it.

First things first. When he gets to his office, he dials El's number. "Hon… Do you have a way to get hold of Mozzie?"

o - o - o

"I know you've been setting up a getaway for him," says the Suit when they meet at June's.

"Objection, entrapment! I admit to no such thing!" exclaims Mozzie loudly.

The Suit sighs. "Okay, you're trying to look out for him, I can understand that. But if Neal runs now, he'll get caught again and I won't be able to help him. You need to persuade him that this is his best chance."

"Like I said before, I'll take it under advisement, Suit."

"Damn it, Mozzie! Could you for once put your paranoia on hold and think of what's best for Neal?"

"You presume that Neal will listen to me. … Fine. I'll talk to him," says Mozzie at last.

Peter smiles at him in a relieved way like a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you, Haversham."

"Mozzie is fine," mumbles Moz uncomfortably.

"I mean it. You're doing the right thing here–"

"Oh, and we need a different way to contact each other," Mozzie interrupts him mid-sentence. "Elizabeth is too obvious a choice and so is June. The next time, you will call this number and give me a password – oh, and you need to use an untraceable phone…"

"Or I could put out a BOLO out for you," says Peter dryly.

Mozzie shakes his head. "See, Suit, this is exactly the wrong approach…"

They bargain for the better part of the next twenty minutes. Baring a few minor concessions, Mozzie wins on a full scale – as if the outcome could have been any different. After all, he has known this game was rigged when the Suit probably still believed in the government, Moon landing and Santa Claus. _He probably still believes in some of those,_ thinks Mozzie and tries not to despair over the naivety of his (unwitting) allies.

"I'll see you around," he says when the two of them part their ways.

That evening, he talks to his companion. It's been three weeks since the plane exploded; three weeks that Neal has spent in prison, despairing over Kate's death. The suspicion has been averted, and now Peter Burke has given them the perfect means to get Neal out. Finally, his co-conspirator agrees and Mozzie moves on to carry out the plan.

If anyone asks him, it is about damn time.

o - o - o

It's hard to think that he has been in a similar situation several months ago.

Stripping out of the orange jumpsuit, Neal puts on his shirt, his trousers, jacket and coat. They're all part of his disguise – he fixes his tie and smiles, but his insides are twisted and he might be sick, it's wrong wrong wrong –

' _You won't be able to look for Kate's murderer on the run,'_ Mozzie had insisted sharply. _'I can't do this alone. You think you'll find out who killed her out of a prison cell?'_

' _Moz…'_

' _Do you trust me?'_ asked Mozzie. _'Then trust me now. Take the Suit's offer, Neal.'_

And just like that, Neal does.

Once he's dressed, one of the guards put the anklet back on. It feels weird, anticlimactic – it should be Peter doing this. But there is no chance to rest or reconnect. Somehow, Neal puts himself together before the prison gate opens for him again.

Peter is waiting here with the Taurus, wearing the same old suit, and somehow that almost makes Neal smile.

"I see you got your tie back. Ready for some decent coffee?" asks Peter lightly, though Neal can see the barely hidden worry in his eyes.

He stares at the paper cup. "You brought me coffee."

"I did say it was negotiable…"

"Thanks, Peter."

 _Thank you._

The cup is warm in his hands – Neal takes a sip, then holds it close to his chest like a part of his armor - suddenly, he feels the sun on his face and smiles. It feels good, smiling.

"I brought you one of your hats from June's," says Peter as he opens the door to the Taurus and Neal notices the familiar item on the front passenger's seat.

He beams. "Peter, really? You didn't have to…"

"Ready to go to the office?" asks Peter seriously.

"Sure," says Neal with a carefree smile. "I knew you liked my hats," he says mischievously as Peter starts the car.

"In your dreams, Caffrey," says Peter gruffly, but with a spark of humor.

Secretly grinning at their little exchange, Neal puts on his hat. _Just like old times._

As the car jumps unexpectedly, Neal almost spills the coffee all over himself before he gets his shaking hands back under control. Instead of commenting on his reaction, Peter turns on the radio and then starts filling Neal on their latest case. As they banter, Neal can feel himself slipping back into the skin of Neal Caffrey, FBI consultant and con man extraordinaire – anything is better than the fog and black despair of the past four weeks. The gray prison building remains behind them like a big ugly tomb.

They're going to work on Peter's case. And then they're going to catch Kate's killer.

o - o - o

When Neal enters to door to his apartment that evening, Mozzie and June are already waiting there for him, sitting behind the table with two glasses of wine and a plate of homemade cookies. "Hey Moz, June."

Mozzie watches as Neal and June share a hug, and has to stop himself from snapping at them to hurry. If he has to wait one more hour –

"It's so good to see you, June…"

June blinks away tears. "We missed you so much…"

"I'm sorry–"

"The house hasn't been the same without you." With one last smile, June moves to the door. "Well, gentlemen, I will leave you to your business. You know where to find me if you need anything…"

"We will," says Mozzie with utmost seriousness. June gives him a brief questioning look. Then she steps out and closes the door behind herself.

"She really is incredible, isn't she?" says Neal.

"That she is," says Moz in agreement.

A pause.

On second thought, maybe stalling isn't such a bad thing after all.

Suddenly, Neal shudders. "Hey, do you mind if I take a shower? I'd really like to get into some fresh clothes that don't smell like a prison plastic bag…"

Mozzie nods. "Ah, perfect move. Fresh clothes, a new start – it's a pretty straightforward symbolism. Good to see you're moving on."

Neal rolls his eyes. "Actually, I just thought the clothes smelled of plastic, but sure, whatever makes you happy…" He then turns serious. "You were right, Moz. About taking up Peter's offer."

"I'm always right," says Mozzie dismissively. Then he eyes Neal's clothes. "Hmmm. I'll check them for bugs while you're in the shower."

" _What?!"_

"Just because I told you to take the Suit's offer, doesn't mean the Man should be trusted. Just leave them behind the door."

Neal blinks. "Seriously? You really want to poke through my clothes under a crazy notion that the government would place a bug in them?"

"It could happen!" exclaims Mozzie indignantly. "Neal–"

His friend sighs. "Okay, fine, as long as you stay away from my underwear."

"Please," says Moz with a snort.

Neal shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this…"

The moment Neal disappears into the shower, Mozzie pulls out his Russian surplus equipment and starts scanning Neal's apartment. There is too much at stake not to take serious precautions.

When Neal finally comes out of the shower, dressed in comfortable clothes and his hair still slightly damp, Mozzie is back sitting at the table and waiting for Neal to join him.

"You wouldn't believe how much I missed hot water," says Neal with a small smile. Then he frowns when he notices a small box on the table in front of Mozzie. "Hey, what's that?"

'That' is a plastic box with buttons and an antenna. Mozzie has spent the last four weeks working on it, and it has cost him half a million dollars, some dignity and a favor to the boss of a crime family.

"It's a jammer to your anklet."

"What? Moz, are you serious?"

"No, I'm kidding. _Of course_ _I'm serious!"_

"Sorry Moz, I just…" Neal touches the box in awe. "A way off the anklet. Do you know what that means?"

"It means we can go," says Mozzie with a small smile.

"We're not running," says Neal immediately. "Don't you understand, Moz? With this, I can go wherever I want – I assume that's the gist of how it works, right?"

"Well, not exactly–"

"We can catch Kate's killer."

Mozzie grimaces. "Yeah, about that –"

"I need your help, Moz. I can't do it alone."

"I never said that." Mozzie pauses before taking a deep breath. "Neal, do you trust me?"

"You know I do. What is this about?" Neal's confusion slowly transforms in a realization. "You found them, didn't you. You know who it is. You know who killed her. Tell me!"

"Whoa, slow down!" Mozzie pulls away as Neal grabs at his hands with a frightening intensity. "I didn't say anything about Kate's killer."

"Then what do you know? Moz, please. I need to know."

 _Clearly, Neal does._

Moz tries to phrase it. _'It's not bad news this time. Well, not all bad. See, it depends on your definition, because – '_ He wants to give Neal an encouraging smile, but –

"There is something that you need to see."

Okay, so he is a bit of a coward.

 _But it is time._


	3. Part II

**PART II**

As they take what Neal suspects is yet _another_ detour, he is beginning to think that this may have been a mistake.

Back at June's, Mozzie had told him that he needed to take him somewhere; then he had promptly changed his mind and insisted that they had to wait until midnight. Neal tried to get him to reveal more information, but Moz wouldn't budge – typical for his short friend, except usually Neal would have put up more fight. But not tonight.

He is tired, and yet he feels chipper, his muscles are tingling in expectation; of what, Neal doesn't know. It's been like this for a while – his head just on the edge of a migraine, everything around the world is sharper somehow, different. Mozzie takes them to yet another dark alley, and Neal thinks how weird his ankle feels, too light, like in prison.

Why all the secrecy? What _is_ this about?

Kate, it had to be about Kate – or her murderer.

' _If she was alive…'_

It's a treacherous thought, and Neal pays for it with a fresh wave of pain – he _knows_ that that way lies madness. The first few days in prison, a small part of him kept waiting for a sign; they've all faked their deaths before, and he thought that maybe –

He has racked his brain for weeks at prison – where did he go wrong, what mistake has he made, how did he overplay his hand so badly that it had gotten Kate killed. He stole the music box, he did what they asked – did they always mean to kill both of them? It doesn't matter, because in the end they murdered Kate; they murdered her because they thought he had the box, because she was connected to him, because no matter what he did, it wasn't enough–

' _What does Mozzie know?'_

Neal feels sick, and he realizes he can't do this anymore. Wherever Moz is leading him, to the object of his latest conspiracy theory, or to someone for a new job – he's done.

o - o - o

It takes Mozzie a few seconds to realize that Neal has stopped. "What is it?" he asks with concern.

"I'm done, Moz. I'm going home."

Mozzie frowns. "Neal –"

Neal laughs bitterly. "I have to be at the FBI early in the morning. My job, remember?"

He has slammed his walls back up, and he's protecting himself from more hurt. He should have foreseen this, Mozzie thinks – oh hell, he _did_ foresee this. He sighs. "Man, I wouldn't drag you here if it wasn't important –"

Neal shakes his head: "I don't care. I don't – I can't. No more games, Moz. Tell me what's going on or I'm going home."

Mozzie shakes his head. "We're almost there –"

"We've been going around in circles for _hours_ , Moz!" Neal blinks. "If it's about John Lennon or a secret society –"

"Stop – "

"– or if it's a job; a Picasso, a Rembrandt – not tonight, okay?"

"Neal– "

"Look, you can tell me later. I just got out; I need – just give me a few days, okay?"

Neal's expression betrays his exhaustion and barely hidden pleading, and seeing that look on him almost makes Mozzie ill.

Does Neal really expect him to have no regard for his grief? Does he honestly believe that Moz wouldn't care; that he wouldn't understand? Sure they are partners in crime, but more than that they're friends too, and how could Neal think that didn't matter to him–

They're out in the open; if someone overhears them, if Neal storms away – _Screw it._

"She's alive, Neal," says Mozzie softly.

Neal blinks. "What?"

 _He really didn't want to do this here._ "You heard me," says Mozzie. "She is alive."

Neal staggers. "No. You said – you're lying. You're wrong."

Moz shakes his head. "Look, we can't talk here–"

"The hell we can't!" Neal stares at him with a mix of disbelief and desperation. " _How?_ I _saw_ her get on that plane–"

"She got off –"

"–why didn't she tell me?"

"What do you think?" says Mozzie rhetorically. "Neal, someone just tried to murder both of you. Do the math."

"You _knew_?"

"Can this wait until we're in private?" Mozzie interrupts him in a half-voice. "Look, why don't you ask her? It's five minutes from here; will you go with me now?

For a moment, he thinks Neal will sock him or just walk away. And them Mozzie berates himself, because he should have known that Neal wouldn't do that when Kate was in the picture.

His friend gives him a stiff nod. _'Lead the way.'_

o - o - o

 _It's not real._

Happiness, anger, confusion – they all swirl around Neal's brain as Mozzie leads him to his safe house. But all those emotions are damped by the shock and numbness that weigh on his limbs and slow down his steps.

He doesn't believe it.

And then they're at Monday. A subtle camera is surveying the outside and the windows are blacked out by newspaper. They walk inside and Mozzie flips on the light switch in the corridor. And then Neal feels something stir inside him, something that feels like hope, and suddenly he can't wait; he needs answers, he rushes past Moz –

"Wait," he hears Mozzie say, but he doesn't care, he has to know –

Neal bursts the door open and stares at the living room.

The light has been left on. There's a wooden table in the middle of the room, with three chairs and a bowl with some fruit. There are papers, maps and books spread all over the table; a half-finished cup of coffee standing almost too close to the edge of the deskboard. And in one of those chairs…

Neal can barely see through the tears, but it doesn't matter. That face, hair, those hands… he would recognize them anywhere.

Her face is resting on the table, eyes closed; she has clearly been reading through the documents before falling asleep. Neal opens his mouth to call her name, but his throat is too tight and his voice fails him. He moves forward to hold her in his arms –

Someone grabs his shirt and pulls him back. Enraged, Neal turns around. "What the hell, Moz?"

"You were going to hug her, weren't you?" asks Mozzie rhetorically.

"So what? What does it matter?" whispers Neal harshly. "I thought she was _dead_ –"

"And I spent the last month nursing her back to health," Mozzie cuts him off. Then he sighs and lets go of Neal's arm. "Be careful, all right? Her back is still healing."

"What…" Neal tries to suppress a newfound feeling of unease. _Her back? Just what did happen to Kate?_

But she is here, alive, breathing, and Neal has to make sure it's not a dream or a hallucination. He sits down on one of the chairs and reaches for Kate's hands. He wants to – he could grab her, kiss her, press his body against her and never let go. Instead, mindful of Mozzie's warning, Neal simply strokes Kate's wrists with his thumb.

"Kate. Hey baby, it's me..."

Kate's eyelashes flicker; Neal can't help himself and squeezes her hand tighter. He waits, watching as Kate stirs and slowly opens her eyes. Then the familiar blues meet him own and Neal laughs in relief, his face breaking into a happy smile –

The movement is so fast he barely catches it. He almost falls of his chair as Kate points a gun at his chest. "Whoa!"

Kate blinks. "Neal?"

"Kate…"

"What are you doing here?"

Neal swallows. "Err, could you…"

"Oh for Christ's sake," says Mozzie impatiently and plucks the gun from Kate's hand to place in on the table. "Here. You want to be armed, fine, can't say I disapprove, but don't shoot out of your sleep, okay? Now do you two lovebirds need me to guide you through this or are you going to greet each other?"

"Mozzie, charming as ever. Hello to you too," says Kate dryly, and for a moment Neal wants to smile at her familiar humor. However, there are too many questions – what happened with the plane; how was Kate even alive? What did Mozzie mean about Kate's injuries, and since when did she carry a gun?

"I told you I was going to bring him today," says Mozzie in a low voice.

"You already said that two weeks ago. And then the week after that. Then again five days ago, and then–"

Mozzie sighs. "Okay, point taken. … You shouldn't be drinking this," he picks up Kate's coffee with a disapproving frown. "Let me get us something else."

The moment Mozzie walks out of the room, Kate closes the distance between Neal and herself and gives him a hesitant, self-reproaching smile. "Hey. This wasn't how I imagined our reunion."

When Neal wasn't having nightmares, he has been dreaming about this.

He shakes his head. "I thought you were on that plane." _I thought I got you killed._

"That was the point," says Kate seriously. "If they knew I was alive, they'd try again and then they'd come after you. I couldn't risk it."

So she let him think she died. Both Kate and Mozzie actually – how could they do this to him?

"You should have told me."

"I told you why I couldn't."

"Kate–"

"I missed you," she says plainly. " _Five years_ , Neal, and we stand here arguing? What are we now anyway?"

Five years.

"I'm sorry I got caught. I'm sorry I put you through all of this." Suddenly, all Neal's concerns seem to fade away. "I love you."

"You already said that," says Kate with a faint smile, but her eyes are sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"Mozzie said your back got hurt," says Neal with a hint of question. "How–"

"Here." Kate takes his hands and places them on her shoulders. She puts her hands on his hips. "I love you too."

They join their lips in a kiss.

o - o - o

Back in the kitchen, Mozzie pours Kate's coffee down the sink – what was she thinking, drinking a dehydrating stuff like that? – and then finds three glasses and makes them some lemon water. He leans against the kitchen counter and takes a sip from his own glass.

He will be here for a while – the last thing he wants is to walk in on Neal and Kate when they are obviously reuniting. By now, they're probably all over each other – Mozzie grimaces, thinking how his safe house will never be the same again. But then he has written it off the moment Kate contacted him. Despite everything else, he knows he would do it all again in a heartbeat – not just because of Neal, but because the last month has erased any doubts whether Kate was fully one of them. For better or worse, she is one of Mozzie's people, and the newfound understanding between them is one that would be hard to break. In that regard, Vincent Adler almost did them a favor, even if nothing would please Moz more than to put a bullet in the man's brain.

No, that's what Neal would do. Mozzie, he thinks a simple death was too easy for all the pain Adler has caused them. He wants to make the man suffer, to see him lose everything and _bleed_. He remembers stuffing a cloth into Kate's mouth to muffle the sound of her screams; remembers the vacant look in Neal's eyes as he saw him at prison, and a simple bullet is not enough a retribution. He doesn't think anything could be.

But Kate was right – if they try to get revenge, things could easily turn against them. Without the music box they have no cards to play. Right now, the wisest course of action is to cut their losses and start anew. All that's left is determining the best exit strategy, and Mozzie already has several plans prepared.

He will miss New York, but ultimately it's just a town. It's the people that really matter.

Pulled out of his thoughts by a wide yawn, Mozzie is almost overcome by a wave of tiredness. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him that they will have to go soon. Moz is pretty sure Neal won't like it – he and Kate had less than an hour together – but Neal does have a job in the morning and he should get at least _some_ sleep if he wants to be able to fool Peter Burke into thinking that nothing has changed. And that is another reason why they have to be careful yet fast in planning their exist strategy – they can't allow the FBI to interfere. There is no space for mistakes – it's literally a matter of life and death.

Well, time to interrupt the two of them.

Picking up a tray with the lemon water and glasses, Mozzie pauses in front of the living room and knocks on it in iambic pentameter. He waits a few seconds before entering. He doesn't know what he expected to find, but the image that greets him is surprisingly innocent and peaceful, with Neal sitting on the couch, holding Kate's hand and stroking her hair as she half-sits, half-lies next to him, resting her head against Neal's side.

For a moment, Mozzie remains silent. When he finally clears his throat, Neal looks startled while Kate opens her eyes and looks up.

"What time is it?" asks Kate.

"It's quarter past two. We have to leave."

Obviously torn, Neal looks at Kate. "If you wanted, I could stay the night."

 _Of all the stupid things…_

"You can't, Neal." Moz shakes his head. "The Suit will come to pick you up in the morning–"

"I don't care. I'll make something up."

"-and what if he sees the anklet signal there and no you? Have you thought about that?"

Honestly, sometimes Mozzie wishes he didn't have to be the voice of reason.

"Come see me tomorrow," suggests Kate when Neal still appears undecided. Mozzie wants to protest – it's dangerous; what if someone follows them, what if the Suit realizes Neal slipped the anklet? – but one glance at Neal's face tells him that he has to pick his battles, and this is one that he has already lost.

"Very well then. Tomorrow!" he exclaims with as much fake enthusiasm as he can muster.

Apparently he isn't fooling anyone, because Kate gives him a grateful nod. "Thanks for bringing him here, Mozzie."

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. If you two fuck this up after all the lengths we went through, don't come crying to me, okay?"

"Well _thank you_ Moz. It's great to see we have your confidence," says Neal sarcastically.

Mozzie huffs, but deep down, he finds Neal's biting humor refreshing. It's certainly an improvement over the doomed version of the past few weeks.

After they untangle, both Neal and Kate stand up. "Tomorrow midnight, then," says Neal at last.

Kate smiles. "Okay."

They kiss again – Mozzie looks away, feeling awkwardly out of place – and then Moz has to usher Neal out of the door when he still wants to linger.

"I'll see you tomorrow," says Mozzie to Kate still at the door.

When Neal isn't looking, Kate's mask slips and she looks tired and exhausted – possibly in pain too. "Good luck, Mozzie," she says quietly.

Neal grabs Kate's hand one more time, just to make sure she is still there – and then Mozzie closes the door and it's like the night never happened.

It's half past two in the morning and they head back to June's house. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

o - o - o

' _I'll see you tomorrow…'_

Waking up, Neal instantly sits up straight on his bed and looks around his room at June's.

The safe house. _Kate._ For a moment, Neal is horribly certain it was all just a dream; nothing but a delusion of his desperate mind. He thinks he's going to be sick –

"It wasn't a dream, if that's what you're wondering."

Blinking, Neal notices Mozzie sitting at his desk, a thoughtful yet troubled expression on his mind.

Neal's throat tightens. "Moz…"

"Peter will be here any moment," says Mozzie levelly. "He can't realize anything has changed. Luckily he only saw you for an afternoon, but you will have to act the same as yesterday. If he figured it out–"

"I can fool Peter," says Neal with a strange certainty. And suddenly he knows he's right.

"Very well then," replies Mozzie. "I have to go. See you in the evening."

"See you," echoes Neal, but his thoughts are already elsewhere.

He can do it; he can easily con Peter into thinking he's still in the same place as yesterday. Kate may be alive, but her life is still in danger; her almost-killer is running around there somewhere. Neal can still barely see her – nothing's changed really.

 _Even if_ _ **everything**_ _did._

Kate is alive, and that's a miracle. Yet Neal thinks how easily she could have died, how both of them could still die if someone, _anyone_ found out she survived the explosion… suddenly it's not hard to hide his joy. The fear and pain grasping at his heart are very real, and so Neal takes them and _uses_ them _(nobody must know, not even Peter)_ – he brings up the fatigue and hollowness _(he only got to hold Kate for a while and that's all they have now; a stolen moment in the middle of the night, like a pair of thieves)_ – he covers it all with a thin layer of humor and confidence and tries not to let the fear choke him as he prepares to greet Peter ( _he closes his eyes, sees the exploding plane and shudders – this could have been his reality.)_

"Hey," says Neal when Peter enters his apartment. His voice is both cheerful and brittle, and there are dark circles under his eyes – the illusion is perfect.

"Hey Neal," replies Peter. He gives Neal a concerned look. "You okay?"

"Sure, why?"

Peter just shakes his head. "Nothing. … Anyway, we have a new case. You coming?"

"You bet."

As he closes the door to his apartment, Neal takes a deep breath.

 _The game is on._


	4. Part III

**PART III**

When the conference room finally fills, Peter gives everyone a small smile before speaking up and turning on the board.

"Good morning everybody. Our newest case is an identity doctor named Angela Santano. She is 34 years old, has a ten year old kid; she's been arrested a couple times but we never had enough for a conviction. She has a legitimate job as a waitress that may or may not be connected to her forging business. Jones, do you want to continue?"

"Mrs. Santano is currently going through a messy divorce," says Jones, easily taking over from Peter. "Her soon to be ex-husband came to us a week ago, supposedly after only just learning of his wife's illegal activities. Unfortunately given his obvious bias, Mr. Santano's credibility on a witness stand would be questionable, so we will need other evidence if we want our case to stick. The obvious problem is that if we approach Angela directly, her lawyers could try and call it an entrapment…"

As Jones fills everyone in on the details of their latest case, Peter has a chance to subtly observe the room. He is pleased to see that Diana has settled in again, not that he expected anything less. Their newest probie, Blake, is still just watching and staying quiet – Peter will give it another week before talking to him about it. And then there is Neal, who Peter watches with carefully hidden concern and worry.

If any of his agents witnessed what Neal did, they would have received counseling and possibly a few weeks of paid leave. Instead, Peter counts himself lucky that he even managed to negotiate Neal's release back into his custody – and it had been a close thing. The DOJ weren't too happy with the publicity of a plane exploding on their watch, which means that both Peter's and Neal's future now hangs on the success of their next few cases.

Hughes's warning still fresh on his mind, Peter refuses to think about what will happen if Neal can't deliver.

Peter sees as Neal stifles a yawn, discreetly rubs at his forehead and loosens his tie a bit. He has to squash the urge to tell Neal to go home and get some sleep. The best thing he can do now is distract him with a case and help him fake it until he can make it.

Through the rest of the day, Peter keeps checking on his friend, and his concern grows into real alarm. He sees as Neal's hands start to shake as he begins to fill out some document; he notices him almost spilling his coffee when Diana talks to him with his back turned.

He wonders if he should let Neal go undercover on this case. A distraction could be good for him… but at the same time Peter doesn't want to risk it in case things went sideways. But eventually, he might have to make that call.

Maybe Mozzie could help him, thinks Peter in a sudden flash of inspiration. Mozzie would know what Neal was thinking; maybe he could provide him with valuable insight. And if not, at least Peter could be sure that someone was watching over Neal when he wasn't at the FBI.

His mind set, Peter texts Mozzie to set up a meet.

o - o - o

Being the delivery man/nurse is a tiring and ungrateful job, especially when your patient is in hiding and getting cranky from living cooped-up for over a month. Still, Mozzie isn't known for abandoning friends in need, even if they pretend not to want his help.

"You're drawing attention. I would have been fine until the evening," snaps Kate at him instead of a greeting.

"Wow, good day to you too," replies Mozzie sarcastically as he passes her a grocery bag. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"I'm not in the mood, Mozzie," says Kate impatiently. "Do you have anything for me besides milk and bagels?" She doesn't wait for his answer as she puts the bags in the kitchen and returns back to the living room. Once again, Mozzie is greeted by the familiar sight of a desk covered with papers, maps and books. Kate's laptop is softly humming on the chair.

After pouring himself a glass of water, Mozzie follows Kate to the table and wordlessly prompts her to proceed.

"Our best bet is Budapest," says Kate steadily as she hands Mozzie some blueprints and a bunch of photos. "You'll start in Paris; something not too high-profile but enough to attract both Burke and Adler. Then the gallery in Vienna, and finally when both the FBI and Adler are on your tracks, you'll botch-up the Budapest heist so that Neal gets shot during the getaway. Once he's ruled dead, the three of us will meet at Côte d'Azur–"

"Not France, Kate," Mozzie shakes his head immediately. "Everyone knows how much you love that country. It can't fit your or Neal's profile. Think someplace where tourists don't come much; where neither you nor Adler have any ties – did you piss off any Russians?"

"Not that I know of," says Kate with a frown. "But what–"

"Estonia," says Mozzie decisively.

" _Estonia?_ What's there?"

"Estonians, Russians and some minorities – and they do have a sea if you still want your 'villa overlooking the ocean' dream. … Look, you already vetoed South America, Asia and the islands. Estonia's civilized, part of the EU but not too flashy, and nobody would look for you two there. At least look it up."

Kate bites her lip. "Okay. I will."

She is clearly tired and on edge, her face half-hidden by a streak of messy hair; however, her voice is firm and filled with determination. Moz gives her a grim nod of approval. "Good. Now, where are we on Neal's "death"?"

"Blank shots, puff fish toxin and fake EMTs," says Kate.

 _Puff fish…_ "Hey, that was my idea! How did you know anyway?"

"You told me two weeks after Neal was incarcerated, after you came to my apartment to yell at me."

"Ah, that." Mozzie hides a wince. He had been angry that day; grieving and drunk. "Kate–"

"Water under the bridge, Moz," she says with a shrug. "Will this work?"

"I'll make it work," promises Mozzie.

 _Which brings them to their biggest problem…_

"So, have you told Neal the plan yet?"

"When did I have the time?" asks Kate rhetorically. "Besides, he'll be fine with it."

"Kate…"

"He left for Copenhagen, he let himself get caught, he lied about the music box… I visited him for four years, and he still didn't trust me." Kate draws a shaky breath. "All I wanted was for us to be free and safe. We could have been far away by now. Neal owes me this."

Mozzie frowns before nodding. Even if Kate's real motivation isn't quite so simple, he knows that Neal will listen to her.

Kate with all her flaws on one hand; the feds and mortal peril on the other. Mozzie hesitates, but in the end it's not hard to pick.

"If you go with that argument, subtlety is the key," he advises thoughtfully.

"I'm not stupid," says Kate dryly. "Anyway, I think you're wrong. There's nothing holding Neal here. He ran and faked his death plenty of times before. It will be just like old times."

"Yeah. Like old times," echoes Mozzie thoughtfully.

Suddenly, his phone beeps. Mozzie pulls it out and raises his eyebrows when he reads the message. _Speaking of the devil…_

"Huh."

"What is it?" asks Kate with concern.

"The Suit wants to meet with me this evening. To quote, _'it's about our mutual friend_ ," says Mozzie with a frown. He sighs. "I should have expected this."

"You gave him your number and you brought it _here?"_

Looking up, Mozzie realizes that Kate is staring at him with shock.

"Relax, the signal is rooted through five continents," he says dismissively. "I have to figure out what I'll tell him…"

"First Neal, and now you're actually going to _meet_ with him?!" exclaims Kate. "Has everyone gone mad around here? Did you both forget that Burke put Neal in _prison?"_

"And now he's the only thing keeping Neal out. They consider each other friends, believe it or not–"

"You're damn right I don't believe it," snaps Kate tightly. "Burke _used_ me to catch Neal. I don't want him anywhere near any of us."

"That's not gonna happen, Kate," says Mozzie rationally. "Or did you forget Neal is working for the feds now? … Look, the Suit's concerned for Neal, and frankly, so would I be if you really were dead. If I don't meet with him, the Suit will get suspicious and start poking around. I have to do this."

"Fine, if Burke really thinks Neal is his _friend_ , then tell him that Neal is heartbroken and hurting. Tell him to stop being Neal's jailor and to give him space." Kate's eyes are blazing with cold rage. "You know what, tell him Neal blames him for my death."

 _Ouch._ "And you think that's the best strategy," says Mozzie skeptically.

"I don't care! _Four years,_ Mozzie. Do you have _any_ idea how it felt to watch him there every week? _Every damn week?!_ And then he has the _nerve_ to accuse me of not loving him?!"

He forgot how vicious Kate could be.

"I'll consider it," says Mozzie carefully. "Trust me, I have this. I'll figure a way to neutralize Burke–"

"Besides, he may have been in on it with Adler and Fowler," Kate interrupts him. "The way he conveniently stepped in with a way to shackle Neal–"

Mozzie shakes his head. "Look, Peter might be a fed–"

"Exactly. "

"–but he's not dirty. Besides, I told you the anklet was Neal's idea."

"Right, and you're absolutely sure of that," Kate laughs bitterly. "I should have known Neal didn't notice my message at prison. If I had known – I should have waited longer. Who knows what Burke told him when they met?"

"Kate–"

"I held a gun to his face, Mozzie, and he didn't even blink. He wasn't scared, he wasn't surprised – he was _smug_. It was Fowler and Adler all over again." She wraps her arms around her torso. "I'm so sick of being a pawn in these games!"

"No longer," says Mozzie quietly. "Not anymore, Kate. I promise."

"Promise you won't let him mess this up," says Kate.

Mozzie nods. "On that, you have my word."

He struggles to hide his worry. Kate might be smart and determined, but she is acting borderline irrational – though not without reason, Mozzie admits reluctantly. Meanwhile, Neal is still recovering from prison, not to mention he's keeping up a façade at the FBI. Once again, it's up to Moz to be the safety net for both of them.

 _And then there is the Suit._

He can't allow Kate to target him; he hopes she will be smart enough not to badmouth him in front of Neal.

When he leaves Monday half an hour later, Mozzie types a message to Peter to meet him at the park.

o - o - o

As the clock approaches six p.m., Peter feels his stomach clench in anticipation.

Per Mozzie's instructions, he has found the correct bench, and after a momentary hesitation he even bought a newspaper at the nearby kiosk. As he waits, Peter thinks back to his day. He wonders what Mozzie will have to say; he needs to know how Neal is doing, he needs to know what to look for; he needs to make sure Mozzie will keep an eye on Neal when Peter can't be there.

He still feels the weight of Hughes's eyes on him as he was leaving – his boss didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

' _We need this case. I need Neal to be all right. Please be all right.'_

If he and Mozzie work together, maybe both of them can get back their friend.

Finally, Peter's phone rings. "Yes?"

" _I saw a mockingbird in the park."_

"What? Mozzie, is that you?"

" _No names!"_ exclaims a distorted voice. _"You're supposed to be reading the paper."_

"You're using a voice-changer. Unbelievable."

" _The password–"_

"I'm not playing this game. Get over here now," says Peter with a slight growl.

"You were the one that set up this meet, Suit," says Mozzie once he appears from behind a tree.

"I did. Come sit with me."

"Fine."

Once they settle on the bench, Peter skips the small talk – they both know why they're here. "So. How is he holding up?"

"I'm working on it. Don't worry, it's under control. He will be fine," says Mozzie evasively.

 _What the…_

"' _Fine'_ , seriously? Do you think I'm blind?"

"I don't know what you're–"

"He's got the shakes," interrupts him Peter. "Sometimes he just – goes blank for a moment, like he's not there. What do you think will happen if he can't do his job and my bosses notice?"

Mozzie pales. "You can't. Peter – it would destroy him."

"Then help me out, Mozzie. If I am to cover for him, I need to know what to look for. I can't navigate us through the minefield if I'm blindfolded." Peter tries to speak with calm and reason to hide his growing despair. If he had to put Neal back in jail on top of everything that has happened to them – he doesn't know how he would live with that.

For a long time, Mozzie remains silent. "I don't know what you want to hear, Suit," he says at last.

"How is he?" asks Peter again.

Mozzie looks away. "It's been only four weeks since he saw Kate die. What do you think?"

 _Right._ "Did he talk to you about it?"

Mozzie snorts. "In case you didn't notice, Neal isn't exactly forthcoming when it comes to this sort of things. … Just give him time, okay?"

"And in the meantime, the two of you are looking into who murdered Kate. Tell me I'm wrong."

"We didn't come here to discuss Neal's activities," says Mozzie defensively. "Besides, what he does in his free time is his business–"

"Of course it is," says Peter sarcastically, and he has to bite back words of frustration. "Did you find anything?"

"Not part of the deal, Suit."

There is something off about Mozzie' expression… "You did find something," says Peter in realization. "What is it?"

"Nothing," says Mozzie.

"Right. Will this "nothing" get him in trouble? No, forget I asked that," says Peter even before Mozzie starts shaking his head. He takes a deep breath. "I can keep an eye on him at work, but I'm not around the whole day."

"He's not sleeping enough," says Mozzie after a pause.

"I noticed. Nightmares?"

"I stayed with him last night… He probably didn't fall asleep until close to dawn."

Peter's heart clenches. "Does he think he's in danger from whoever killed Kate? If it helped, I could offer him to stay at my place for a while…"

"NO!"

Peter pauses. "No?"

"Errr… I don't think that would be good idea, Suit," says Mozzie. "Neal needs familiar surroundings now. Yes!"

"You're not telling me something."

"No. Ha. Why would you think that?"

"Mozzie–"

"Okay!" Mozzie pauses. "Neal… he has been acting a bit weird, all right?"

"Weird how?" Peter's gut is screaming at him that something is going on.

"' _Fear is the mother of foresight.'_ It's not paranoia if they're out to get you."

Peter frowns. "Explain."

 _What is going on?_

o - o - o

"Hey Moz. What's going on here?"

Turning around, Mozzie notices Neal on the stairs. "Oh, hi, Neal. Don't mind me, I'm almost done."

"You're installing a peephole in my door?" asks Neal with mild interest before coming inside.

"Well, given how often you get unwelcome guests? I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." At last, Mozzie puts down the screwdriver and bends down to collect his tools. "Okay, all good. So–"

"Moz? Why is there a baseball bat on my table?"

Turning around, Mozzie sees Neal staring at the item with a mixture of curiosity and horror.

Mozzie has to suppress the urge to shuffle his feet. _Everyone was always a critic,_ he thinks with a bit of a miff. "Oh. About that…"

"Do you play? You know I don't. How did we even get the thing?"

Mozzie sighs. "Okay, I may have met with the Suit, and he _may have_ caught me off guard–"

"What?"

"– and he was talking about coming here uninvited. So I told him you needed space and routine, that you're acting paranoid and that you borrowed the bat from June's grandkid in case someone came after you. You know, for protection." Gauging a hopeful look at his friend, Mozzie is discouraged when Neal stares at him as if he had grown another head.

"So you had a talk with Peter and then you brought me… a baseball bat."

Mozzie shrugs uncomfortably. "Just stick it behind the door, okay?"

Neal shakes his head before chuckling slowly. "Okay." After hiding the bat out of sight, Neal gives him a small smile. "Hey, Moz? Thanks."

"You're welcome," replies Mozzie awkwardly. He clears his throat. "If you're going to see her later, you should eat something and then get some rest."

"I can't–"

"Neal, I get it. At least try, okay?"

His friend bites his lip before nodding. "Fine."

Forty minutes later, Neal pulls the curtains shut and goes to bed. It's three hours until midnight. Mozzie picks a random book, pours himself a glass of wine, takes the place in one of the armchairs and prepares to keep guard.

He has a long night ahead of him.

o - o - o

They barely exchange the words of greeting.

"You're here," Neal breathes out. Even after Mozzie told him, he didn't quite believe it – he had been sick with worry the whole day, fearing that it had been a dream and not sure what he would do if this wasn't real. He grasps at Kate's hand – he touches her cheeks, her hair; cupping her face, Neal pulls her closer –

Later as they break their kiss, Neal stares at Kate with a mix of wonder and amazement.

His joy turns to concern when Kate winces and scratches at her arms even as she bites hard on her lower lip.

"Kate?"

"It's – just give me a moment," she says with a grimace. "I'll be right back."

Following her to the kitchen, Neal watches Kate open two different vials. Her hands are shaking a bit as she swallows three pills with some water.

"It's the burns, isn't it?"

Avoiding his look, Kate finishes her glass and places it into the sink. "I'm fine–"

"Let me help."

"Neal–"

"Please. Kate–" He refuses to feel so useless – if he can do something now, maybe it will relieve a bit that black pit at the bottom of his stomach; the crushing weight on his soul that he has failed her. "Where do you keep the lotion?"

For a moment, there is silence. "Bathroom, top drawer."

Neal smiles at her. "So where do we do this, the couch or the bedroom?"

"You don't have to. I can handle it–"

Neal silences her with a kiss. "I love you," he says when they pull apart again.

Hesitantly, she smiles back at him. "I know. … My bed, then?"

"Sure."

They kiss again, then Kate leaves and Neal goes to the bathroom to fetch the moisturizer. He easily finds the correct bottle – judging by its weight, it's already halfway empty – and he stares at his reflection in the mirror as he tries to collect his wits and prepare himself for the task ahead.

The bedroom is dark as Neal enters; the only source of light being a small lamp in the corner. Neal finds Kate lying naked under the covers; eyes closed, her face half buried in a pillow, her clothes folded on the floor. Pulling the blanket away, Neal kisses Kate's bare shoulder before sitting down next to her. Looking down, it's like a stab to the heart – Kate's back, ass and the top of her thighs are a mess of scabs, blisters, scars and angry dark pink and red. _It shouldn't have been like this._

But Kate is still here, still breathing, and Neal is once again reminded it could have been so much worse. He strokes a part of her skin that isn't damaged; he touches her hair again and tries to regain his balance. They have survived this.

He opens the lotion, pours some on his hand and starts lightly applying it on Kate's burns.

"I asked Mozzie how bad it was," says Kate after a while, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Mentally, Neal winces even as his hands remain steady. "Probably not the best idea. Moz can be very – _expressive_."

"More like brutally honest," says Kate with a chuckle. "So he told you what happened?"

Neal nods. "The rough outline, yes." He pauses. "By the way, not that I'm complaining, but when did the two of you start getting on this well?"

"He spent almost a week by my side," murmurs Kate. "With Adler out there, I wouldn't have lasted a day in a hospital. He saved my life."

Flashing back to the moment of the explosion, Neal suddenly feels lightheaded and almost loses balance. _'Thank God for Moz.'_

"It's healing nicely," he says as he pours another portion of the lotion on his hand.

"Liar," replies Kate, but there is not sting in it, only a bit of fond amusement. She sighs. "Neal… what are we going to do next?"

 _What are we going to do?_

He considers it.

There is Peter – and June, New York – but Kate matters more to him. She needs him more.

"We can go," says Neal slowly.

Kate turns her head to smile at him. "Good." She pauses. "You can't just disappear though, or they'll come looking for you. We could fake your death."

Neal draws in a sharp breath. "That's–"

"We'll never be safe otherwise," Kate presses as she sits up with a wince. "Think about it; our little house with the view on the sea… This is the only way to escape Adler and the FBI."

Standing up, Neal turns around to face away from Kate as he considers her words.

 _Fake his death …_

Remembering the day on the airstrip, Neal is hit with a wave of nausea. When the plane exploded, his heart was ripped apart – and now he would do the same to Peter…

But Peter has El and his job; he will get over it eventually. On the other hand, Neal can't risk putting Kate in danger again.

He sits back to the bed next to her. Kate's skin is glistering in the dark, the subtle scent of the lotion still in the air between them.

"All right," Neal says at last.

Kate smiles at him. "I love you." She reaches for his shirt and starts releasing the buttons, helping him undress until he's just as naked as she is. Then she pushes him down and kisses him on the lips, followed down with a kiss to his collarbone.

They haven't been together like this since Neal left for Copenhagen.

As he makes love to Kate for the first time in years, Neal finds it easier to forget about Peter and his upcoming betrayal.

Everything is going to be just fine.


	5. Part IV

**PART IV**

Neal is woken up by an annoying beeping sound. "What…"

Drawing herself up, Kate reaches for the phone and pushes the 'Decline' button. "It's just Mozzie. He can call later," she says with a yawn. She gives him a tired but goofy smile.

Clasping Kate's hand, Neal turns on his side to get a better view on her face. "You have no idea how much I missed this."

"I think I know," laughs Kate.

Pushing away a stray lock from Kate's face, Neal snuggles even closer.

 _It was the first night he has slept without nightmares since the plane exploded._

"We need to talk," says Kate seriously.

"Not now."

Talking was all they could do while he was in prison. Neal knows Kate is right – eventually, there are things they will have to talk about – the plane, Adler, his escape, the past year, their miscommunication that led to his second sentence, the million little and big things that they couldn't talk about while he was at Sing Sing. And then they will have to start planning their _adieu_ , figure out where to go and what the future holds for them.

 _But that could all wait for later._

Neal reaches for Kate again (she is still there; maybe tomorrow he will finally believe it) when Kate's phone beeps once more.

"Not again," says Kate with a sigh.

But before she can turn the phone off, Mozzie's voice comes through the voicemail. _"I know you're there. Pick up the phone, Renétr."_

"'Renétr'?" Neal asks with a frown.

Kate rolls her eyes. "Mozzie's way to pronounce my new alias." Sighing, she picks up. "'Morning. Do you have any idea what time is it?"

" _Ahem, do_ you _? Please tell me you two aren't that stupid and that your companion is on his way back right now?"_

Neal feels as if he was hit by ice water. "Shit – Moz, what time is it?"

" _It's quarter to six, and_ no names _! I can't believe you! Do you know what will happen if you're not here?! Of all the_ _ **stupid**_ _stunts – "_

"Damn it." Before Mozzie can finish his rant, Neal is already grabbing his trousers. As he fumbles with the belt, his mind rushes to the possible disastrous outcomes – Peter's anger, Kate being discovered, a one-way ticket to prison for him –

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Kate rushes to help him put on his shirt. She zips up Neal's jacket when his fingers are shaking too badly. If he's late –

"Stall him," orders Kate.

" _I will try, but–"_

"You promised, Mozzie," says Kate urgently. "I don't care what you have to do; just stall. Tell Burke Neal's still asleep or crash into his car; just do _something_ –"

"I can make it." _Hopefully._ But despite his paleness, Neal's voice is steady. "If I'm not there, ask June to help – she'll know what to say."

" _Neal–"_

"Thanks, Moz," says Kate firmly and hangs up.

Almost despite himself, Neal smiles.

He hurries as he's putting on his shoes, but he takes his time to kiss Kate properly.

"You need to go–"

Neal kisses her again, burying his hand in Kate's hair while clutching her shoulder with the other.

When they finally part, Kate's expression is both loving and sad.

"Run fast. Be safe."

"I'll be back," Neal promises.

Then he turns around and bolts out of the door.

o - o - o

As he arrives at Neal's that morning, the first thing Peter notices is the newly installed peephole in Neal's door. Pausing as he remembers Mozzie's warning, he knocks on the door and then waits.

 _If the little guy wasn't lying, then the last thing he wants is to get his head smashed with a baseball bat._

A moment later, Peter hears someone approaching the door. However, when the door opens, it's not Neal who greets him at the doorstep.

"Hey, Mozzie. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same about you, _Peter_ ," says Mozzie with a glare.

Peter blinks. "Excuse me?"

"You're early!" snaps Mozzie, his voice dripping with disapproval. "Yesterday you acted all concerned, then today you can't wait to get your government fingers on him? _Suit,_ " he utters as an insult.

What the hell? "Government… no, I don't want to know. Just let me in, Mozzie."

Stepping aside, Mozzie allows Peter into the apartment. "Neal's in the shower," he says as an afterthought before sitting down on one of the chairs.

"I don't understand," says Peter with a frown. "What's going on?"

Mozzie gives him an annoyed look before suddenly deflating. He sighs. "It's been a long night."

 _Right, the nightmares._ "You're staying here with him?" asks Peter with sudden understanding.

"What – right! Yes, of course."

 _What –_

Something is off here; Peter just can't put his finger on it –

"Peter, you're early!" exclaims Neal with a smile as he walks out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, his body dripping with water. "Want some coffee? I was just about to make some breakfast."

Glancing briefly at his friend, Peter takes a double look when he notices a few scratches on Neal's body and a bruise on his shoulder. "Stop," he barks suddenly. "Don't move."

Freezing on the spot, Neal's eyes widen with fear. "Peter?" he asks quietly.

At the moment, Peter wants to kick himself for scaring him. He stands up and approaches Neal, trying to appear non-threatening. "What happened," he commands quietly as he gestures towards the bruise.

"What? Oh, that." For a moment, Neal looks startled before suddenly relaxing. "Honestly, I have no idea how that happened–"

"Don't lie to me," says Peter sharply. "That's a bite mark if I've ever seen one. Who did this?"

"Neal's private life ishis own damn business, Suit," says Mozzie from afar, but Peter's mind is already attacked by sickening and terrifying scenarios. It has been three days since Neal left prison. If someone attacked him, then Neal's paranoia made even more sense–

"Moz is right. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get dressed," says Neal a bit sharply, moving past Peter.

Peter watches him as Neal puts on a shirt. "Neal, if someone hurt you–"

"What?" Turning around, Neal's tight expression suddenly softens and then becomes sheepish as he connects the dots. "No, Peter – no. Wow, you thought – I'm sorry. I swear, nothing happened that wasn't voluntary. "

"Are you sure about that?" asks Peter sharply. There are many forms of coercion, after all.

Neal sighs before giving him a grim smile. "Absolutely. The great thing about sex, Peter, is that it makes you feel alive. … Now can we please drop this topic before I get even more embarrassed?"

"Who…?" asks Peter curiously.

"Sorry. Like Mozzie said, none of your business."

"Okay," says Peter at last.

"Penny for you, Suit," says Mozzie sarcastically.

"Great." Neal beams at him. "Now I know Moz has a problem with the milk, but what about you? Do you like pancakes?

Peter clears his throat. "Actually, I came here early because we got new information on the case."

Neal sighs before giving him a winning smile. "You want to interrupt my breakfast? Peter, come on–"

"Cowboy up," says Peter, for once the words coming easily despite the past events. "I'll buy you some bagels on the way to the office," he promises with a small smile.

"Coffee?"

"Starbucks is on our way," says Peter cheerfully.

"Great. Let me find my jacket."

With Mozzie glaring at him, Peter waits as Neal puts on his jacket, tie and finds one of his hats. "Ready to go?"

"Neal–" says Mozzie suddenly.

"See you later, Moz," Neal replies. Then he puts on his hat and follows Peter out of the apartment.

o - o - o

As the door close behind the Suit and Neal, Mozzie waits for a few moments before shakily collapsing on a random chair. When his feet stop shaking, he stands up again and then goes to raid Neal's fridge, finally finding a bottle of scotch. Pouring himself a shot, he drinks it down in one gulp; then he leans against the kitchen counter and just breathes.

 _That was awfully close._

He didn't even have the time to berate Neal when he arrived – they barely managed to log in Neal's anklet again when they heard Peter's knock on the door. In a flash of brilliance, Neal shook off his shoes, rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Catching on, Mozzie stuck the anklet jammer under the bed and placed Neal's shoes at their regular place on his way to the door before greeting Peter like the somewhat annoyed but innocent, concerned friend.

If the Suit hadn't knocked and simply entered, it would have all been over.

 _Damn Neal and Kate! Didn't they realize what was at stake here?_

Still furious with them, Mozzie pours himself another shot and then almost sways on his feet, the alcohol and adrenalin making him feel dizzy. He always hated close calls like that, even though they didn't come as a surprise. Part of having Neal as his front man and friend also meant that Mozzie used to clean up these messes – sometimes literally.

Entering the bathroom, Moz frowns, looking for Neal's clothes before finding it in the clothes basket. Clever – even if the Suit had entered, he wouldn't have noticed anything amiss; nothing to testify to the fact that Neal had just ran all over the city back from Mozzie's safehouse. Content with the state of the bathroom, Moz goes back to the bedroom and places the anklet jammer into its usual, less conspicuous place.

And then when Neal returns tonight, he will talk some sense into him to make sure something like this doesn't happen again.

o - o - o

Over the next few days, Peter watches Neal with a mixture of concern and disquiet.

He knows Neal still isn't sleeping enough; he recognizes the symptoms of PTSD. He sees it, but he can't do anything beyond what he's already doing; providing stability and tough comfort, distracting Neal with the case and covering for him whenever he slips and becomes distracted or lost in some dark private place. Luckily Neal's skills of a con man are so deeply ingrained in him that their ruse mostly works and nobody except for Diana suspects anything wrong.

Sometimes, Peter hates keeping all these secrets.

The music box, the very key to the past events, is hidden in Diana's safe. Another piece of clue is the mysterious meeting Fowler was supposed to go to, a mere three weeks from now. With Diana acting as his backup, Peter wonders what they will uncover and whether they will be able to get Neal some answers and closure. No matter what he personally thought of her, Kate Moreau's murderers deserve to be brought to justice.

Peter doesn't doubt Neal and Mozzie are investigating this too, but without official resources they might not get very far, and it's probably for the best. The last thing Peter wants is for Neal to do something rash and get himself in trouble again.

For a week, they go on like that, until Neal messes up and blows their case.

o - o - o

Their investigation of Angela Santano suddenly becomes top priority when they hear a rumor that she made several IDs for an Irish mobster and infamous hitman. Ruiz comes to the White Collar department and demands to know the state of their investigation, only being mollified when Peter reassures him they will keep him in the loop.

Courtesy of Mozzie and one of Ruiz's informants, they learn where Angela is staying and the code-phrases to use when someone wants to buy a new identity from her. Despite Peter's misgivings, Neal is the obvious choice for the case – and even if he has doubts, a frown on Hughes's face decides the matter for him. Besides, Neal reassures him he can handle it, and Hughes is right – if Peter doesn't let Neal go undercover on something that is right up his alley, then what is their CI's place on the team?

"Nothing crazy, Neal," says Peter in a half-voice as they fit Neal with a bug and remove his anklet. "Go in, get her to agree to make the passports, then get out, okay?"

"Peter, relax," Neal laughs at him.

"Hey," Peter stops him before he can leave. "We need this one. Got it?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem," says Neal lightly.

Some time later, Neal enters the bar that Angela frequents; Jones is already there with a drink, acting as backup while Peter and Diana are waiting in the van.

At first, everything goes smoothly. Neal approaches Angela, tells her the code phrase and gets invited to a private corner with her. Peter and Diana exchange a look – good start.

Peter has to hand it to Angela – the woman is careful, weighing every word even as she discusses the crime with Neal. Even as they're about to close the deal, she still hasn't said anything directly incriminating, despite Neal's subtle directions to get her to do just that.

And then it happens.

Since the beginning of the interview, Neal and Angela have been flirting. At first Peter grins a bit at one of Neal's compliments – it's good to hear Neal sound more like himself. As their conversation proceeds, Peter notices Neal withdrawing a bit, but he doesn't think it's a cause for concern, until…

" _I could have everything finished in three days. How about you pick them up later that night?"_

" _Sorry. Can't do late nights."_

" _You sure? We could meet at the Central Park; there's a nice restaurant–"_

Suddenly, they here a shuffle of the chair. _"What the fuck are you doing?"_

"What?" Bewildered, Peter and Diana exchange a worried look.

" _Hey, wow, chill off,"_ they hear Angela Santano on the tape.

" _Don't touch me!"_

There is a pause. _"Look, I'm sorry if I misread something there. Can we just get back to business?"_

Peter breaths out in relief. They could still salvage this–

" _I've got to go."_

" **What?!** No, Neal, don't–"

" _Mr. Halden–"_

"–don't do this–"

–but he already hears Neal rushing away.

" _Hey guys? Can anyone tell me what just happened there?"_ asks Jones into his transmitter, but Peter just shakes his head.

"Go after him," murmurs Diana, and it's all the prompting Peter needs before he hurries out to find Neal, to ask him what the hell happened…

… _even as he prays that Neal hasn't just condemned himself to a trip back to jail._

 _o - o - o_

When Peter finally finds Neal leaning against a wall in a back alley, he is torn between concern and anger. "Hey. What the hell happened there?"

Neal gives him a blank stare before he snaps out of his reverie. "I have to go back there."

"She already left," says Peter, relying a message from Jones.

"Damn it." Shaking his head, Neal straightens himself. "Any idea where she went? Did she keep my photos?"

"I don't know. I'll call Jones–"

" _She threw out the envelope on her way out,"_ Jones confirms a few moments later.

"Damn it. Thanks." Hanging up, Peter looks at Neal again. "Do you have her contact? A number, _anything?_ "

"Nothing except for Central Park," says Neal despondently. "Peter–"

"If you approach her at the bar again–"

"She's careful; she's smart to know something was off. She won't talk to me."

"What _happened?_ " presses Peter again.

"She grabbed my hand."

"And you ran away?" asks Peter in disbelief.

Neal just shakes his head and doesn't answer.

Peter closes his eyes.

"Go home," he says when he opens them. "Get some damn sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

He doesn't yet know how he's going to fix this. But first, he has to go to the office to do some damage control.

o - o - o

When Peter finishes his report, Hughes stares at him with an inscrutable expression.

"We're not really worse off than before," states Peter reasonably after explaining the situation. "Neal didn't tip off our hand; we just have to find another way in."

"It shouldn't have been necessary!" says Hughes sharply. "Organized Crime called as soon as they learned today's sting fell through. This case was right up Caffrey's alley. … Peter, we talked about this."

 _This can't be happening._ "We will get Santano; we just need more time," says Peter.

"You better be right." Hughes pauses. "Ruiz was going to raise a small stir. I talked him out of taking over the case for now, but if we don't get results–"

"Thank you," says Peter with relief.

Hughes rubs a weary hand over his face. "Talk to him, Peter. I don't care how you do it, but if Caffrey doesn't get his head back into the game, the DOJ will notice sooner or later. Get me our CI back."

The other outcome hangs in the air between them, unspoken.

On his way out, Peter grabs the file they have on Angela Santano and prepares himself for a long night.

o - o - o

 _Go home and get some sleep._

For once, Neal actually considers obeying Peter's order. His nightlife has been taking out a toll on him; for a brief moment, he entertains the idea of just texting Kate tonight and then collapsing in his own bed at June's. But as wonderful as the thought of sleep sounds, not being able to see Kate would be unbearable, especially after he promised to take care of her.

Besides, the weekend is only three days away, about to provide him with a reprieve from the FBI.

As he reaches his apartment, Neal drops himself on the sofa and then closes his eyes for a moment to get some rest, just for a few minutes...

…

"Hey."

Neal's eyes snap open –

"Moz?"

His friend gives him a tight smile. "In person."

"Wait, what time is it?" asks Neal with a frown.

"Eleven p.m.," says Mozzie with a sigh. "You know you could take a break–"

"I'm fine, Moz," says Neal dismissively.

There is a moment of silence.

"The Suit texted me," says Mozzie at last. "He said something about a problem on a case…"

"I screwed up," admits Neal reluctantly.

When Angela touched him, when she squeezed his hand with that look of desire, all he could see was the exploding plane and Kate's screams from his nightmares; her face twisted in betrayal and agony.

"Neal, if you make the Suit suspicious–"

"It doesn't matter," Neal interrupts him. "Where are we on our getaway?"

"Almost done. Depending on how she feels, Kate should be well enough to handle the travel in the next week or two."

"Good." Neal pauses. "Did you get it?" he asks a moment later.

"When did I let you down?" asks Mozzie rhetorically.

With some obvious reluctance, Mozzie opens his handbag and pulls out a small package. Wordlessly, Neal unwraps the cloth to reveal an old revolver, a holster and a small case of bullets. Suppressing a feeling of distaste, he first points the gun away before confirming that it's not loaded. He checks the gun, but everything seems to be in order, so he aims it a few times to get a better feel of it before he loads the bullets in.

Mozzie clears his throat. "Look, not that I don't see your reasoning, but – are you _really_ sure about this? Because if you're not–"

"I'll only take it with me when I'm coming to Kate, and I won't be using it unless I have to," says Neal evenly. "You still don't know who's been trying to follow me?"

"Neal, I'm not even sure someone actually _did_ try to track you…"

"It was during the day. And trust me, I know how it feels when I have a tail."

Mozzie grimaces. "Okay. I'll keep working on it."

"Thanks, Moz."

Sometimes, Neal doesn't know how he deserved his friend's loyalty.

Staring at the gun, Neal tries to collect his thoughts. He pictures himself in a dark alley, discovering the person who's been sent by Adler to follow him… confronting them… killing them. He _almost_ gives the gun right back to Mozzie… almost.

They hurt Kate; they tried to murder her and almost succeeded. If he's not ready to defend her because of _principles_ , then what does that make him?

He wonders what Peter would say if he saw him right now, and his stomach twists when he thinks of all the secrets and outright lies he has told in the past twelve days since his release from prison. But Kate's safety is too important to him, and simply he can't risk it anymore – not even for Peter. By the time the agent realizes that Neal has played him, both Neal and Kate will be long gone.

That's just the way it has to be.


	6. Part V

**Part V**

"I just don't know what's going on with him."

"What do you mean?"

Turning around to face Elizabeth, Peter sighs. "Neal. I thought it was all about Kate, but there's something… I can't put my finger on it. He's not just grieving; he's hiding something from me."

"Like what? Honey…"

"I don't know."

"You said he might be investigating Kate's death," El pointed out.

"Yeah, maybe. "

"You don't think he's looking into her death?" asks El surprisedly.

"Oh, I know he is looking; I just don't know what he found. And there's something else… I've been checking his anklet data," says Peter after a pause. "He moves around the apartment until close to midnight, then goes to bed and doesn't move at all until five or six o'clock in the morning."

El frowns. "And what's wrong with that?"

Peter shakes his head. "It's… too still. You'd think he would go to the bathroom, grab a glass of water… I know he hasn't been sleeping."

"Maybe he's been reading a book? Either way, it doesn't sound like he's doing anything wrong."

"Maybe," says Peter.

He acknowledges El has a point, and yet… One or two nights would make sense, but all this time? And then there were those scratches and the bruise that looked like a bitemark. Neal claimed that they were from voluntary sex, but then why did he freak out so badly tonight when Santano hit on him? "Something's going on," he says aloud.

El kisses him on a cheek. "Well, whatever it is, you'll figure it out."

El always knew how to make him feel better. "You're right," says Peter. Smiling at his wife, he deliberately pushes the thought of Neal away. "So, what about your new client? Did the meeting go all right?"

"Well, there was this one moment…"

o - o - o

They have already finished with the lotion, and they have made love afterwards. Now as they lie next to each other, as he lays a gentle kiss on her neck, Neal thinks about all the little things he has forgotten during their separation.

He remembered the ticklish spot on Kate's thigh, but not how soft her hair felt in his hands. He remembered the light in her smile, but not her little hiccup when she was laughing so hard her eyes teared up. He remembered her favorite song but forgot that she hated apricot jam and celery.

 _So many of her little quirks that have slipped his mind… If everything goes right, he will have a lifetime to rediscover them all over again._

But first they have to make sure that their plans have no holes in them.

Neal clears his throat. "I was thinking… If we're not replacing the guard like the EMTs, how do we let him shoot me without me actually getting shot?"

"Mozzie will switch his gun. We'll give him one with blanks, use the fake blood, then switch it back… disappear."

"That could actually… work." Neal pauses. "Is it true what Moz says, that _you_ came up with all of this?"

Kate smiles at him. "Well, not everything. The puff fish toxin was Mozzie's idea… I learned some things when you weren't around. Besides, I had a good teacher."

They've both changed, Neal thinks. They've lost some of that youthful idealism – he used to think he was invincible; Kate wasn't this independent when they first met. They've grown different… stronger.

"You're incredible."

She laughs. "Say it again."

He follows each of his words with a kiss. "Incredible… gorgeous… smart…"

"Keep going," Kate breathes as she pushes him on his back and climbs atop him.

"Did you set the alarm clock?" Neal asks in between a kiss.

"Damn." Kate pauses before getting off him. Reaching for the floor, she picks up her cellphone and sets the clock before dropping it back on ground. "I think Mozzie'd kill us if you were late again…"

"Probably."

Chuckling mischievously, Kate moves back to the bed with him. Seeing her smile in the light of the lamp, Neal's heart almost burst with love–

"Wait."

Still smiling at him, Kate tilts her head. "What's wrong?"

"Just… wait for a moment."

Standing up, Neal goes back to where he has left his clothes and his bag _(yesterday June baked blueberry muffins; he knew those were Kate's favorite so he brought her some)_ – he rummages through his things and ignores the cold steel of the gun as he pushes it away –

 _There, in the far corner of the bag._

He used to dream about doing this; had it all planned out before Peter caught him and Adler screwed up their lives. But the past months and years have taught him that nothing is certain, and suddenly waiting for the perfect opportunity feels like a waste of time when they have already lost so much.

Taking out the item that he has recently liberated from Madison Square park, Neal hides it in his palm before returning to the bed where Kate is waiting for him with a curious expression.

He clears his throat. "Can you sit up?"

"Sure," says Kate with a bit of suspicion. "Neal, what's going on?"

Suddenly feeling a knot in his throat, Neal laughs even as his eyes tear up. "I had this whole thing prepared… Look, I don't know what our names will be in three weeks or if the plan will work, and it's not what we dreamed of but…" He swallows and stops before his rambling gets worse; then he takes her hand in his and opens his other palm to reveal an emerald ring. "Kate, will you marry me?"

o - o - o

If Peter didn't think before that something was going on with Neal, today would have been enough to clue him in.

After their case yesterday ended in a spectacular fiasco, Peter expected Neal to be somewhat subdued, or at least tightly in control of his emotions. And on the first glance, his impression seems correct – Neal is at his table, looking very quiet and helpful. And yet there is something about him that doesn't fit that profile – behind Neal's mask, Peter sees a spark of something else – anticipation? Excitement, even?

Nothing of it makes sense.

Nevertheless, none of it will matter unless they catch Angela Santano.

"My office," he murmurs when he stops by Neal's desk.

Neal stills before nodding. "Sure."

"Shut the door. Sit down," says Peter when they make it upstairs.

Obeying his command, Neal gives him a hesitant smile. "Look, if this is about yesterday–"

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" asks Peter dryly as he takes his own chair.

A pause. "Santano – startled me. I overreacted. I don't know what else to say…"

"Right. Never mind, it doesn't matter." Peter lets out a sigh and runs a tired hand over his face. "What's important is that we need to find a new way to catch Angela in the act."

"Isn't it always that way?" asks Neal with a small smile.

"You don't understand. We know Angela made IDs for the Irish mob. Organized Crime have their dibs on this case. If we screw up, if we don't get some answers soon, Ruiz will take over – and be justified. … We need to solve this."

Neal frowns. "Why Santano? Why's this case so important?"

"Because it's the best we got," answers Peter. "Our other cases are the Rodgers scam and the Nott fraud, neither of which is anyway near being closed. Angela's still our best bet for a quick arrest."

"You're saying that like we're on a deadline."

Peter winces. "Not precisely, but…"

"But what? Peter–"

"There's no _explicit_ deadline…" Peter trails off before taking a deep breath. "I just need you to take this case seriously, okay? The Department of Justice had some concerns–"

"About what, me? And you didn't tell me?" asks Neal in disbelief.

"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily," answers Peter honestly. "Look, it's not a big deal. We just need to prove we still make a good team and catch Angela–"

"A _team_."

Something about the way Neal says it makes Peter uneasy. "Yeah, that's right. We're partners."

"You sure about that, Peter?" asks Neal with deceptive calm.

"Of course I am. Neal–"

Humorless, Neal chuckles. "So what happens if we don't catch her? Am I back in jail?"

"No, I mean, I'll do my best to–"

"To lie to me? To keep this from me?"

"What? No, I– why are we even arguing?" Internally, Peter shakes his head. "Listen, catching criminals is part of your job. It's what we do. We'll catch Angela and all of this will become baseless."

Neal opens his mouth before closing it again. "You're right. Let's focus on the case."

Peter's gut tells him there's something off about all this, and suddenly he's sick of these games and all the unspoken words. Has he done them more harm than good when he decided to give Neal space?

"What's really wrong?" he asks quietly.

Neal stares at him in disbelief. "What do you _think_ , Peter?"

"I know you're grieving for Kate," says Peter gently. "I'm sorry about what happened to her. I wish we could have done something to help her." Neal's blank face betrays no emotion. "Listen, why don't you come over for dinner tonight."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I insist," says Peter with a small smile.

"Are you going to make me?" asks Neal boldly.

"No – damn it, Neal. Where is this coming from?"

A pause. "I just need some space, Peter," says Neal at last.

 _Space._ It's what Mozzie has advocated. Then why does it feel like he's missing something?

"You're hiding something from me."

Neal looks away. "I'm not–"

"It's about Kate, isn't it?" Peter presses.

"Would you drop it?" snaps Neal with a mix of pain and anger. When Peter doesn't reply, Neal looks straight into his eyes. "I'm not hiding anything, Peter."

 _A lie._

Peter swallows the bitter disappointment, even though he didn't expect anything else. He nods. "Okay. Then let's get back to our case."

"What's the plan?" asks Neal thoughtfully.

"Angela only goes to the club three times a week. Tomorrow, we will try to send Diana in. In the meantime..." Peter hands Neal a thick file.

"What's this?"

"Angela's financials," says Peter with a hint of evil glee when he hears Neal's groan. _Serves him right._ "If she was making money by her forging business, chances are we'll find something here."

"You're making me look at numbers? Cruel and unusual."

"You'll survive," says Peter dryly, his own copy already at his desk.

They really do need this case, and they'll do they best to catch Angela. In the meantime, if Neal isn't going to tell him what's going on, Peter will have to figure it out on his own.

That's just the way it is.

o - o - o

Reprogramming his anklet that night feels unusually grim. Neal thinks about Kate, her voice, her smile – and yet once again she's not the only person on his mind.

' _We're a team.'_

But not for much longer.

Hiding back the anklet jammer, Neal puts on a leather jacket, trousers and a cap; once again, he's sneaking around like a thief. He tries to remember a time when it wasn't this way between them but all he finds are his earnest, pleaded promises when he was at Sing Sing; that it would be different once he got out; that he could go straight and give her whatever she wanted; that they would have their villa and their happily ever after. Kate just stared at him before telling him to get out in one piece.

He could never quite stop lying to her. This time, though, he's going to keep his promises.

His trip down the stairs is quiet; if June knows about his late night excursions, she's never said anything, but either way Neal tries not to interrupt her sleep. He slips outside and then starts walking. Every night, he takes a slightly different route – he once took the subway five stops in the opposite direction before heading back to Mozzie's safehouse. It may be more time-consuming but it's also safer that way, especially knowing that someone followed him during the day several times in the past few weeks. Still, there has been no indication that anyone knew about his night trips.

 _Until now._

Years of practice stop Neal from freezing when he realizes he has a tail. Forcing down his panic, he doesn't look around and doesn't break his step; he subtly checks the reflection in a shop window, but whoever's following him is too smart to come that close. A few moments later, Neal seizes the opportunity and uses two passing cars to hide him as he changes direction. For a moment, he thinks that worked, but then he realizes his pursuer is still following him.

 _Damn._

If someone's following him, then his situation just got that much direr. They'll have to speed up their plans, whether they are ready or not. Torn between grief and anger, Neal acknowledges visiting Kate is out of question now, it's simply too risky. He almost decides to just scratch today and walk back home, but what if the next time he doesn't notice them?

The gun is still there in a concealed holster at the side of his hip.

He tries to shake them off one more time and fails, though this time he catches a glimpse of his tail in a shiny surface of a passing bus – it's a tall man with broad shoulders, wearing a jacket. Making a snap decision, Neal scratches his initial tour plan and starts leading them to the smaller, shadier streets; in the corner of his eye, he spots a drug dealer with a customer, but he chooses the parallel alley; there are no cameras in those places, and as he takes another sharp turn he reaches for the revolver in his pants –

He presses his back against a house wall and waits; he's estimated their distance at roughly twenty seconds. Six, seven, eight – _he wonders who Adler sent; probably nobody he knows_ – fourteen, fifteen – _a long time ago, he tried to emulate Adler almost as his role model; how did he never see the cold ruthlessness behind that benevolent mask?_ – twenty, twenty one – _this was a bad idea,_ Neal realizes suddenly, _but he can't back out anymore if he wants to see Kate again_ –

The moment the man passes the corner, Neal jumps forward and aims the revolver at him, but his heart skips a beat when his pursuer is almost as fast with his own gun. He starts to press the trigger when he finally sees the man's face –

" _Peter?"_


	7. Part VI

**PART VI**

Maybe it was because El was out of town that night, maybe it was the incident at the FBI. Even then, Peter doesn't know whether it was suspicion, worry for his friend or simple curiosity that prompted him to come to June's house that night. He parked the Taurus on a different street and walked the rest of the way to Neal's apartment and then watched the place from the outside because he had nothing better to do than this unofficial stakeout. Staring at Neal's tracking data on his cellphone, Peter observed Neal walk around his room; he saw the light in Neal's window go out and the anklet dot stop moving roughly at the same time as the previous days.

And nothing strange was happening.

Feeling like a fool, Peter was about to go home, when suddenly the door to June's opened. Hidden in a shadow, Peter watched Neal walk out – but his anklet data were still showing him at his apartment. With a mix of curiosity and anger, Peter starts to follow him, intent on discovering what Neal has been up to. He is careful, never letting Neal spot him, and after half an hour he thinks they might finally be reaching Neal's destination…

… until he finds himself in some dirty lost alley, with a gun aimed at his heart.

Peter's instincts kick in and he pulls out his own gun, aiming it straight at Neal's chest even as the incredulousness of the situation makes his head spin. _'Neal, what the hell?'_

"Peter?" asks Neal in shock. For a second, the gun in his hand falters a bit, but then he straightens himself and steadies his grip. "What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" asks Peter in disbelief. "How about you, Neal?"

Neal swallows but doesn't lower the gun. "You followed me?"

"I can't believe you."

"Peter–"

"I thought you were having nightmares. I worried about you; I even met with Mozzie, and you…" Peter stops before he says something he'll regret. "Give me the gun, Neal."

"Peter, I _was_ having nightmares–"

"Don't you dare!" Peter explodes. "Don't you dare justify this. How long has this been going on; a week? Two?"

"Every night since the day I got out," says Neal softly.

Peter's stomach clenches with the acidic feeling of betrayal. "And you said _I_ lied to you," he utters with a harsh chuckle. "Wow."

"I didn't have a choice–"

"There's always a choice. You just made the wrong one. " Through his anger, Peter tries to hold on to his last bits of control.

He takes a deep breath. "Give me the gun, Neal," he repeats his earlier request.

Neal blinks. "I can't."

 _What?_ "You slipped your anklet, you lied to me, you carried an illegal weapon… Don't make this any worse. Just give it to me."

"Peter, it's not what you think–"

"You've been trying to find Kate's killer," says Peter tiredly. Suddenly, he even doesn't have it in him to be furious anymore – disappointed, yes, but the bubbling rage leaves just as quickly as it came. Because it's about Kate – it's always been about Kate, and her ghost has been haunting Neal even after her death. "What were you going to do if you found them? No, don't answer that." The image of Neal with a gun standing above a faceless person pops into his mind, and Peter almost feels ill. "Did you think I wasn't serious when I told you we would do this together? I swear to you, we _will_ get justice for Kate… but not like this. _Never_ like this."

Silence.

They're standing there in a dark alley with guns aimed at each other. In the distance, Peter hears some yelling and the sound of cars. He locks eyes with Neal again and is shocked to see tears there, even as his lips form a weak smile.

"I'm sorry," Neal says hoarsely as he lowers the gun. He grabs the barrel and hands the revolver to Peter, who puts back his Glock before accepting the foreign pistol. It's not until he has the weapon secured that he allows himself to breathe out.

"You going to cuff me?"

Peter shakes his head. "Not tonight."

He doesn't know where they go from here, how they're going to get over this last breach of their friendship. Yet even with the disappointment, the pain of being betrayed and the residual anger, Peter knows he won't be reporting this incident. He will ask Neal how he skipped his anklet, and then they will have to talk – but later. Not tonight.

"Come on. You're coming home with me," says Peter almost gently, but with a tone that doesn't allow for protest.

He's shocked when Neal meets his eyes and speaks up. "Peter… there's something I need to show you."

o - o - o

' _There is something I need to show you.'_

The moment he finishes his sentence, Neal wants to kick himself when he sees the new flash of anger and pain in Peter's face. "Neal–"

"I lied to you," he says unnecessarily – _what else is new?_

"I know." Peter takes a deep breath. "Look–"

"I'm not looking for Kate's killer. I'm not," says Neal when Peter starts shaking his head.

"Then what are you doing out there? What could possibly explain your anklet and the gun?"

"I needed the gun to protect someone."

"Who, from _what_? And how is sneaking around in the dark protecting anyone?"

"I don't…" Neal hesitates. "Turn off your phone and come with me. I'll show you."

"You know, I'm _really_ not in the mood for a treasure hunt right now," says Peter irritably. "Let's go home. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until the morning. We can talk, and then tomorrow if you still think I need to see this–"

"Peter. Please. Let me show you this."

"Tomorrow–"

"It's a matter of life and death."

That gets him Peter's attention.

The agent stares into his eyes, searching his face for signs of deception. Neal lets him, showing nothing but his honesty; not that he would be surprised if Peter didn't believe him. He should have been more careful, shouldn't have raised Peter's suspicion… and yet now that the secret's almost out, he only feels relieved.

Even if Kate will have his head for this.

"If you're lying to me…" says Peter at last.

"Not this time. I swear."

With a frustrated sigh, Peter turns off his phone, then takes out the battery and drops both of them in his pocket. "All right. Now what's so important it can't wait until tomorrow?"

Neal gives him a tentative smile. "You'll see."

o - o - o

He doesn't know what caused him to listen to Neal's plea. Perhaps he is hoping for an explanation that would make it easier to accept today's events. However, when he realizes that they seem to be travelling in circles, Peter's patience finally wears thin. "How much longer?" he asks at last

For a moment, there is no answer. Just as Peter's about to snap, they take a turn and Neal looks at him. "We're here."

"What?"

The alley in front of them consists of two houses that seem abandoned and a warehouse with a rusty lock and a broken window. Staring at the desolated place, Peter wants to turn back when he notices Neal walking to one of the houses. His jaw drops when he sees Neal pull out his set of lockpicks and move to open a door.

"Whoa! What the hell are youdoing?"

To his shock, Neal just smiles at him. "It's okay, Peter. Mozzie just doesn't like normal locks and keys."

"Wait, _Mozzie_ lives here? Neal, what's going on?"

"It's one of his safehouses," Neal replies as he opens the door. With a broad smile, he steps inside and motions for Peter to follow him. "Close the door behind you, okay?"

"You meant – are you kidding me? You took me all over the city to see _Mozzie_?" exclaims Peter in disbelief. "I'm gonna kill you."

"You can leave that for later," Neal laughs at him. "Now come on!"

Behind his aggravation, Peter can't help but marvel at the change in his friend. He can't remember the last time he has seen Neal this happy and excited, carefree even. With some hesitation, he closes the door and follows inside.

He passes through what appears to be a corridor while Neal opens the door to the living room.

"Hey, I'm back! Kate? Kate, where are you?"

 _What?_

Peter opens his mouth to break Neal from his delusion –

– and then he hears the sound of a gun being cocked behind his back.

"Over here, babe."

Even before he slowly turns around, Peter already recognizes the voice…

… and comes face to face with Kate Moreau, who is very much alive and holding a gun to his face.

o - o - o

"Kate!" exclaims Neal happily when he finally hears the sound of her voice. "Hey babe, how was your…"

He freezes when he notices the scene in the living room. "Peter…? Kate, what's going on?"

"So I guess this is what you wanted to show me." Peter raises his eyebrows. "May I say, I'm _really_ tired of being held at gunpoint tonight."

"Special Agent Peter Burke," says Kate, her voice tainted with cold anger and fear. "Neal, what the fuck is he doing here?"

"Hello Kate. Again with the gun. Nice to see things haven't changed," says Peter sarcastically.

"Shut up!" screams Kate, the gun in her hand trembling. "How did you find us? Did you follow Neal?"

"It's all right, I brought him here," says Neal hastily. "Let him be, Kate."

"You brought him here?! Have you completely lost your mind?"

He has never seen Kate like this.

His head spinning, Neal can still barely believe that this is happening. The gun is aimed at Peter's heart and too close to miss.

Neal swallows. "Kate, it's going to be okay."

"Really? He knows I'm alive now. _How_ is this going to be okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Neal smiles at her. "Look, I trust Peter–"

"Wait… so you planned this? You actually _planned_ this and didn't even tell me?"

"Not exactly–"

"Is this why you proposed yesterday?" asks Kate on the verge of tears. "I don't believe you. This is actually worse than Copenhagen."

 _Shit._ "That's not true, Kate. I _swear_ it's not like this–"

"What happened in Copenhagen?" Peter dares to ask despite the gun Kate is still holding on him.

"None of your business–"

"I tried to con her so she would go to Europe with me," answers Neal painfully. "I didn't ask; I just lied to her. Then when she called me out on it–"

"–you went without me anyway," Kate finishes softly.

"And I've regretted it ever since. You know I'd do anything to take it back."

"I know." Kate bites her lip.

As the emotions are calming down, Neal finally dares to cross the room to Kate's side, trying to ignore the look of hope mixed with mistrust in Peter's face. He lays his arm around Kate's shoulders and kisses her hair. "Hey."

With a sign, she leans into his embrace. "A clear getaway for both of us; that was all I asked."

"A getaway?" asks Peter.

Ouch.

"I'm sorry." He seems to be saying that a lot today.

Kate looks up at him. "You really weren't conning me today…?"

"No. Look, I've made my share of mistakes in this, but I wouldn't hurt you like that again."

"Maybe not intentionally." Kate takes a deep breath. "So what about him?" she motions at Peter.

"I trust Peter." Lightly touching her arm, Neal gestures towards the gun. "May I?"

Wordlessly, Kate lowers her arm before handing him the weapon. "Okay."

"Thank you," says Peter from his position a few feet away.

Kate glares at him before looking back at Neal. "So if you didn't plan this, how come that the two of you came together?"

Neal clears his throat. "Well…"

"What the hell is going on here?!"

o - o - o

It's been a while since Mozzie felt this annoyed. However, seeing the group of Neal, Kate and the Suit ( _in his safehouse_ , with a _gun_ ) brings him to a new level of headaches. When this is over, the rest of the world could go screw itself – he was going on a vacation.

"Hey, Moz," says Neal sheepishly.

"Mozzie?" asks Peter in disbelief.

"Hi, Mozzie. I see you haven't been alerted to the change of plan either," says Kate with a half-sarcastic smile.

"What is it with all of you and guns?" exclaims Mozzie. With a glare, he plucks the semi-automatic out of Neal's hand. "Does _anyone_ care to explain what happened here? When did we agree to involve the Suit?"

"Peter figured something was wrong and followed me. So I brought him here," says Neal with a small shrug.

Mozzie glares at him. "I thought you were being careful!"

The Suit stares at him. "Wait, if this is your place… You _knew_ Kate was alive. And yet you told me she was dead."

"She was already presumed dead. It was part of the plan," Neal interjects from his place.

Mozzie draws in a sharp breath. "Neal–"

"What, Moz? It's not like it's going to work now."

Kate's eyes widen. "You can't be serious–"

"What plan?" asks Peter.

Considering Neal's words, Moz sighs. "You have a good point. Fine." He clears his throat. "Why don't we all sit down?"

Kate frowns. "Don't tell me you agree with him."

"The real question is, do we have a choice?" asks Mozzie practically. "Well, Suit – welcome to the den of crime."

o - o - o

For the third time in less than two hours, things around Peter take an unexpected turn.

It's an hour after midnight and he is in the kitchen in Mozzie's house. He's sitting at the same table with Kate Moreau, who did _not_ die in the explosion and who apparently likes to point guns at him. While Mozzie pours three glasses of wine and somehow finds a bottle of beer for him, Neal explains his plan in the nutshell – to run, fake his death and live happily ever after with Kate. His CI is looking at him with a hopeful and earnest expression; Kate on the other hand barely bothers to hide her hostility.

It takes all Peter's willpower to just sit there and listen to their rationalizations when Neal admits his deceit and trickery of the past month. And yet even that is not the worst of it.

"Explain to me one thing. What happened with the plane? You obviously weren't on it when it exploded."

"And what were _you_ doing there, Burke?" retorts Kate angrily. "Why should I trust you?"

Peter clears his throat. "I was trying to stop Neal from making a mistake–"

"Bullshit. You know what, this could have all been over if you hadn't interfered. The plane was set up, Fowler had the music box, _everything_ was fine until you showed up."

Neal speaks up. "Kate–"

"When and how did you get off the plane?" demands Peter. "What's the deal with the music box?"

"Peter–"

"You have some nerve! You jailed Neal, you used me, you took the music box from us and you still think you have _any_ right to demand explanations from me?"

"Okay, enough!" snaps Mozzie and interrupts their argument. "Look Kate, you're not helping this, so calm down."

"But–"

"Peter, would you just listen to her for a moment?" asks Neal in tandem with Mozzie.

Peter wants to argue; to shake Neal or just walk out the door. But with the other three staring at him expectantly, he holds his tongue back. "Fine. Talk."

There is a moment of silence.

"Kate, please…" Neal prompts her.

"Less than six months before the end of Neal's sentence, someone started following me around," says Kate at last. "Two weeks later, I'm suddenly fired from my job and someone tossed my apartment. I moved to a different place just until things blew over… that was when I met Agent Fowler."

 _Fowler…_

Peter tenses at hearing the familiar name. "What did he want?"

"Neal's stash – allegedly." Kate takes a deep breath. "I sent him to hell; said that he would have to be more creative if he wanted to threaten me… Then the next time I visited Neal, one of the guards tried to stop me, said there was something wrong with my paperwork. After three years and seven months, _suddenly_ there was something wrong… I wasn't buying it. Luckily one of the other guards knew me and let me in."

"See, this is classic! The oppressive power of the Man–"

"So they harassed you," says Peter.

"My new place was tossed as well… Fowler came to see me again. I tried to record him, but he was too careful to say anything incriminating. He once again asked about Neal's stash and implied that bad things would happen if I didn't give him what he wanted. I thought he was looking for a way to stick new charges against Neal and called his bluff." Kate pauses. "The next thing I know, Bobby – one of the guards – tells me Neal has been hurt in a scuffle."

"I didn't know you noticed…" says Neal quietly.

"Of course I noticed," says Kate with a sigh. "It might have just been a coincidence, but I couldn't risk that they would escalate things. So I came up with the plan to leave Neal a message and I staged the breakup. It didn't occur to me at first that he would take me seriously. I prepared the message and left it at our apartment…"

"Message?" Peter asks.

"The bottle," says Neal.

"What–"

"I left town; I only came back every two weeks or so to check the bottle was still there in case Fowler got to it. On my last visit, I told the landlord I'd be moving out in three months… Two days later, I read in the paper that Neal escaped and got caught." Kate takes a deep gulp from her glass of wine. "Fowler found me again. He said he could make Neal's escape charges go away; came up with the so-called "Mentor" scheme. He said he'd set Neal free in exchange for his stash."

Peter frowns. "And you believed him?"

"What was I supposed to do? With Neal caught, it was worth the risk," says Kate sharply. "I took Fowler to the hiding place–"

"-except it was empty," finishes Neal with a grimace. "I didn't fully trust Kate, so I gave her the wrong location," he explains to Peter. "One of the many mistakes we all made in this."

Kate shakes her head. "Fowler was angry. He thought I was still trying to play him. That was when he revealed that he wasn't the mastermind behind all of this, that there was someone else on it. The day Neal was sentenced to four more years, I got a call from Vincent Adler."

…

" _What?_ " Peter wonders if his ears are playing tricks on him. "You mean _the_ Vincent Adler, former CEO…"

"The one and only," confirms Neal with a grimace.

Peter grits his teeth together. "Explain."

o - o - o

When Neal suggested that they tell the Suit the truth, he could have ended it right there and then if he had opposed the idea strongly enough. Instead, he gave Neal his blessing and suggested that Kate follows his lead, revealing their most important scheme to a fed.

If someone told Mozzie a year ago that this day would come, he would have thought that they were crazy.

But in some weird way, he does trust Peter Burke, and so he doesn't protest when they're putting all their cards on the table. He fills in a few well-placed "alleged" and "rumored" as Neal tells the story of their con on Adler, but otherwise he doesn't interrupt, even as he notices Kate stirring impatiently next to him.

When Neal is done, Kate finishes her part of the story – about how she struck a deal with Adler, the music box for her and Neal's freedom; about how Adler demanded she stay away from Neal until he had the music box; about her "damsel in distress" act and Adler's paranoia that she and Neal would turn against him. She tells them how Adler got them the plane, how Fowler bought the explosives and she found a pilot willing to give up his current life and identity in exchange for a big amount of cash. Finally she tells them about Adler's double cross and how she got off the plane in the last seconds before it exploded, barely escaping a certain death.

Mozzie doesn't blame her when she keeps her explanation to the minimum.

Even now, he feels cold when he thinks of Kate going head to head with Adler – because while Kate is getting good at this game, Adler is a mastermind who has beaten even him and Neal. And maybe that's also part of the reason why Mozzie doesn't protest Peter's presence, because if there is a man who can compete with Neal's intelligence, it's definitely the Suit.

"Mozzie, can I talk to you for a minute?" asks Peter at last.

"Of course, Peter," he replies and motions for Peter to follow him into the privacy of the living room.

"I don't trust her," says Peter almost immediately after the door closes.

Mozzie sighs. "Suit…"

"She admitted she worked with Adler. We have no proof that Fowler actually threatened her. She toyed with Neal, she led him to escape; she's setting him up for something–"

"You need to stop this, Peter," says Mozzie seriously. "Look, Kate's no angel, but she's head over heels in love with Neal. For Christ's sake, she visited him in prison every week for almost four years. Isn't that enough?"

"She set up the plane to explode. The pilot is _dead_. You can't justify that. I can't believe you side with her on this."

"It's not about sides," says Mozzie tiredly. "You think I didn't have doubts, that I don't see how Neal does stupid stuff for her? I was there, Suit."

"How do you know she's still not working with Adler?" asks Peter thoughtfully.

"After the explosion, Kate called me. She was… it was bad. " With as few words as possible, he summarizes the past month. He tells Peter about finding Kate collapsed in a stolen car just a few meters from one of his safehouses, her back and thighs horribly burned and bleeding. He remembers how he called his 'doctor' friend and then barely got Kate inside, how he tried to keep her stable when she went into shock. He skips the yelling match and Kate's delirious insistence of not going to a hospital.

They couldn't give her anesthetics at first of fear that they might kill her. Instead, they stuffed a rag in her mouth and Mozzie held her down while she thrashed as the doc cut off the pieces of her clothes. Once they were done cleaning the wounds and applying bandages, he helped force some strong antibiotics down her throat, not that they did them a lot of good. The fever and infection set off just a few hours later, and once again Mozzie argued with his friend until his voice was raw against bringing Kate to the hospital.

The next five days were a blur and a nightmare. Was he wrong, was the person after Kate a lesser threat than the infection that threatened to kill her? Mozzie still feels sick at the memory of the crippling horror that Kate would die at his hands after surviving the explosion. Then the spoon-feeding, helping her to the bathroom, taking care of her burns week after week, lying through his teeth to Neal while he visited him in prison…

At some point of his tale, Mozzie numbly realizes that he's sitting on a sofa. He touches his face and realizes his eyes are damp. As his feeling comes back, he realizes that Peter has his hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. He can't bring himself to push it away.

"We're going to get him," says Peter when Mozzie finally finishes.

Mozzie shakes his head. "You can't involve the FBI. Adler might have more people than just Fowler. If we tip off our hand–"

"We'll keep the investigation low-key; a tight team of people we trust completely," says Peter with determination.

"That's not…" Mozzie stops his protest before it can really fully form.

He doesn't trust the feds; he doesn't _want_ to work with the feds. The problem is that Peter's idea has its merits.

"How small a team?" he asks.

"For now, just Diana, possibly Hughes. Hughes is my boss–"

"I know who they are. _Suit._ "

He'll have to run a background check on them. And yet, Mozzie already considers the benefits of having an inside person at the FBI…

"We don't know where to find Adler. And we've got no leverage," Mozzie voices his last objection.

Peter smiles at him. "That's where you are wrong…"

When he hears the news, Mozzie gives him a grim nod. "We have to tell Neal and Kate."

o - o - o

After Mozzie and Peter leave the kitchen, Neal pulls Kate in a hug.

"Well, this isn't quite how we planned it," says Kate somewhat defeatedly.

Neal squeezes her hand. "About Peter–"

"I don't like him," she says immediately. "But if Mozzie says he's all right…"

"You don't trust me?" asks Neal only half-jokingly.

Kate shakes her head. "Your intentions, maybe. When it comes to our associates, I'm more comfortable with Mozzie's judgment and paranoia."

Neal doesn't tell her how vehemently Mozzie once protested her inclusion into their gang. Then again, given that Mozzie once vetoed Keller and Riley, Kate might actually have a point.

She looks up at him. "I'm sorry for what I said before, about you trying to con me. I thought after all these years, it would be easier somehow…"

"I know."

In their happy moments, they've been acting almost as if they never split up, as if the music box, prison and the plane were just a bad dream. And for almost a month, Neal managed persuade himself that they would never really have to talk about these things… until now.

"I'm sorry I lied to you about Copenhagen."

Kate shakes her head. "I've known for years that you regretted it–"

"Yeah, but I never said it. Well, I _am_ sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you… I shouldn't have tried to con you. And I especially shouldn't have left before I set things right."

"Why did you leave?" asks Kate openly.

Her simple question takes Neal by surprise – wasn't it clear? But then again, maybe not. "The music box was worth a fortune. I knew it could have given us the life we wanted… I thought you were wrong," he admits as he finally realizes the full extent of his mistake.

Because it wasn't just about lying to Kate. No, conning her would have been bad enough, but then in addition he disrespected her wishes and left because he decided that _he_ knew better, without even trying to talk to her again. And in the end, they both paid for it.

"I guess there's some work ahead before we get to our happy ending," he says as he touches Kate's hand with the ring.

"We will get past it," says Kate with a small smile.

 _They will._

Even before Copenhagen, their relationship has never felt quite so real.

Suddenly, Neal has to ask another question… "Would you have really shot Peter?"

Kate bites her lip. "I was going to tell him to put on his own cuffs, and then… Maybe Mozzie would have some of those date rape drugs that mess with your memory… What do you want me to say, Neal?"

It's not a clear no, and Neal doesn't know what to make of that knowledge until he remembers his own revolver and the incident that took place just a few hours ago.

"Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I won't unless he tries to hurt you."

"Kate–"

"If you expect me to just stand by and watch while he arrests you again or backstabs you–"

"I trust Peter. You said you trusted Mozzie's judgment. Can you just try to get on with him?"

"Okay, but…" Kate shakes her head. "The plan is blown. What are we going to do now?"

Good question. "Maybe Peter would let us go…"

But even as Neal says it, he knows it's not going to happen. He likes Peter, and he trusts him to have his back, but he knows Peter has too much faith in the system to just let them run and disappear.

He will have to talk to Peter. Internally, Neal grimaces. He has hurt Peter badly; he broke his trust and used his concern to manipulate him as he plotted his escape. Then there is the matter of slipping his anklet and the gun… It's a small wonder Peter hasn't just stuck him back in jail and thrown away the key.

 _Kate is right – what are they going to do?_

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door, and then a few seconds later Mozzie peeks in. "Hey, can we come back in? There's something the Suit has to tell you…"

o - o - o

When he enters the kitchen again, Peter immediately notices that Kate and Neal are holding hands and standing close to each other. However, it's only as they all sit down again and Kate places her free hand on the table that Peter notices the ring on her finger.

 _What…?!_

"You got _married?"_ he manages to ask despite his shock.

"What?" asks Neal, startled. Then he follows Peter's look and smiles. "No, just engaged."

"Wow. That's… wow." Suddenly, Peter's glad that he's sitting, otherwise his feet might give away under him. He had _not_ seen this coming.

Then again, he really should have.

He wants to protest; to tell them there is more to marriage than kissing, running and waving guns in 'defense' of your spouse. He opens his mouth – and then he meets Neal's wary eyes and realizes that his criticism right now would be useless. "Congratulations," he says instead and even manages to sound sincere.

He is rewarded by Neal's huge grin. "Thanks, Peter. That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Peter replies. "Though I'd appreciate if your fiancée could stop pointing guns at me…"

There is a moment of tension before Kate's expression eases a bit. "That could probably be arranged."

"Thank you," says Peter with a light smile. When Kate gives him a small nod, he is confident that they have established a tentative truce, for now at least.

 _One step at a time._

"We were going to talk about Adler," says Mozzie then and brings them back to the reason why they're here.

"Right," says Peter and turns to his friend. "Neal…"

"I don't suppose you'd just let me leave and go through with the faked death scheme?" asks Neal with a crooked grin.

"Not a chance," says Peter immediately. "We can do this the right way."

It's not just that they would be breaking the law or that his career would be ruined, although these do play a part in it. Mostly, Peter just refuses to let Vincent Adler get away with murder on top of everything else. However, a part of him also wants to see Neal free and not just holed up in some obscure country in the Middle East or South Africa. They can only accomplish all of this if they do it by the law.

"I assume you have a plan," says Kate curtly.

"We take down Adler," says Peter. "If we can find him, we'll put him on trial for his financial crimes and for a murder and attempted murder."

"Even if he's in prison, do you really think we'll be safe?" asks Kate skeptically. "Besides, there's no point. We don't have any way to find him–"

"You said he called you," Peter interrupts her.

"From a burner phone, that's not–"

"Moreover, if Adler provided the plane, there might be some sort of trail, financial or other. After that, I want to talk to you about everything you remember from your talks with Fowler and Adler. If we can find Fowler, maybe he'll know something."

"He would have gone underground…"

"I'm not done," says Peter. "We also managed to decode a part of Fowler's diary. He was supposed to meet with someone three weeks from now. We will be there, see if we can find something. And finally…" he saves the best for the last… "I have the music box."

Neal jumps on his feet. "You have what?"

Mozzie interjects. "Neal, if we can discover whatever Adler wants with the box…"

"…we'll find what Adler is really after…"

"And then we can use that to find him," Peter finishes victoriously.

Neal swallows. "Peter, do you really think…"

"I swear, we can do this."

The three of them look a deep breath and look at their remaining member. Peter takes a deep breath. "Kate…?"

There is a pause.

Finally, Kate nods. "I'm in."

* * *

 _A/N: Only the epilogue left. Thank you everyone who has reviewed this story :)_


	8. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

 _Two days later_

Standing in front of a foreign apartment, Peter struggles with his impatience. _If this doesn't work, if he shows their hand for no reason…_

Suddenly, the door opens. "May I help you?" asks Angela Santano.

Peter smiles at her. "Mrs. Santano. My name is Peter Burke. May I come in for a moment?" He flashes his badge at her but makes sure it stays hidden from the outside view.

Peter sees as Angela freezes for a second before relaxing. "Sure. Come in, Mr. Burke."

 _Which means she probably isn't keeping her forging tools in plain sight, even if it would make Peter's life that much simpler…_

But that's not the plan tonight.

He still doesn't like that he has been forced to come here. Unfortunately, with Organized Crime involved, they're on a clock, and after Santano didn't show up at the club last night, they need a different way to solve their case – and fast.

It was Kate who came up with this solution two nights ago, and while it certainly wasn't the best plan he has ever heard, right now, it's the best they have – if Peter can make it work.

"So, I'm not sure why you're here. How can I help you, Agent Burke?" asks him Angela after he declines a cup of coffee and they both sit down in the living room.

"Organized Crime is making a case against the Irish mob," says Peter. He pulls out a small stack of photos. "We know you made fake IDs for these three men."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," replies Peter calmly. "You've been arrested a couple of times, but you're smart enough that we never got enough to file charges."

Angela stands up. "I'm calling my lawyer," she snaps, obviously upset.

"I'm not here to arrest you today," says Peter loudly as she dials a number. "All I want are the names of the false identities you made."

"Yeah, right."

Peter really hates playing his next card. "Your husband is more than willing to testify against you. You're in the middle of a divorce and a custody hearing. How do you think it will look if the FBI brings you in on forgery charges?"

"How dare you!"

"Full immunity in exchange for those names," says Peter. "I think that's a pretty good deal."

Angela frowns at him. "Even if I supposedly made those IDs, how do I know these mob guys won't come after me if I talk to you?"

"We'll keep your name out of this. They'll never find out." Peter makes a pause. "So, will you give me the names…?"

o - o - o

It has been almost two days since their confrontation in the dark alley and the subsequent events. Yesterday it didn't seem that Peter wanted to talk to him, and so Neal just tiptoed around his handler and friend and waited for him to make the first move. However, today has been even longer and more awkward, and so Neal feels both dread and relief when he recognizes the familiar knocking on the door to his apartment.

He puts down his paintbrush, wipes his fingers into a piece of cloth and then opens the door.

"Hello, Neal," says Peter neutrally.

He puts on a smile. "Peter. Come in."

"I don't recognize this. What painting is that?" asks Peter curiously as he notices the canvas in the middle of the room.

"Actually, it's a Caffrey original," says Neal as he rummages through the fridge in a vain attempt to keep his hands busy. "You want a beer?"

"Nice. And sure, why not," Peter answers.

 _Good start._

Hiding his nerves, Neal puts a glass and the beer on the table before he moves to pick a bottle from his wine collection. "So, how did it go with Angela?" he asks, still not facing Peter.

Peter sighs. "She gave me the names, eventually. I also don't think she'll be doing any more forgeries anytime soon…"

"So it's a win," says Neal with a smile as he turns around and brings his own bottle and wine glass.

"Not really," says Peter with a frown. "It's a compromise; one I wouldn't have made if I didn't know it would help Organized Crime with their case. We need to do better on our next one. This just came in from Midtown mutual." He hands Neal a white business card.

"The Architect?" asks Neal curiously as he reads the black print.

"A case that will be waiting for us, starting tomorrow."

The Architect was a nickname of one of the best bank thieves that Neal has ever heard of. For a moment he forgets about the tension between them and just feels the familiar rush and excitement as he thinks of going after the infamous criminal. "Peter–"

"We need to talk," says Peter grimly and finally takes his seat.

Neal's stomach makes a flip. _Of course._ "What do you want to know?" he asks softly as he takes the opposite chair.

"Why don't you start with how you managed to slip your tracker?"

And that's it.

If he tells the truth, then he will lose the only way that allows him to see Kate. And yet Neal knows he can't lie to Peter, not now after all that transpired between them.

"Neal…" says Peter warningly.

"Mozzie built a jammer for the anklet," answers Neal hollowly. He walks to his hiding place, opens the secret compartment and pulls out the jamming device; then he returns back to the kitchen table and puts the small box it in front of Peter.

"Mozzie built this? How does it work?" asks Peter curiously.

"I'm not really sure about the technical details. All I know is that it transmits the signal instead of the real tracker," Neal explains.

Peter nods his head thoughtfully. "I assume you didn't have this before?"

"No, Moz only got it working this past month."

"I see."

The jammer is sitting at the table in between them. Neal wonders what Peter wants to do with it – break it? Take it with him, or turn it over to the Marshals? The last option is probably off the table, as the Marshals would want to know how the box came to being, and Neal doesn't think Peter would give him up. That, at least, is some comfort.

He hasn't even visited Kate yesterday night, not wanting to push Peter when he was on thin enough ice already. The prospect of not seeing her again for weeks or months is devastating; knowing that he can't be there for her when she's still recovering is just a twist of the knife. Maybe Peter will allow him an exception every now and then; or maybe once Kate has fully healed, they could meet sometimes within his radius… If they can bring Adler in, Kate will be free and safe and then maybe they will be able to plan their future.

He almost misses Peter's next question. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked, how did you get the gun?"

Neal tilts his head.

"Of course, Mozzie again," says Peter with a sigh. "Forget the fact that you're not even allowed to carry firearms – how did you figure getting a gun was in any way a good idea?"

"Adler tried to murder me and Kate. I thought I'd rather be prepared in case he tried again." Neal pauses. "Someone's been following me around."

"What? And why didn't you tell me?"

Neal opens his mouth to say he's been protecting Kate… and then closes it again, because he could have told Peter, even without revealing the truth of Kate's survival. "I don't know."

"Do you know who it was?"

Neal shakes his head. "I didn't get a look on his face… I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining things."

Peter frowns at him. "How are you really holding up?"

"I'm fine–"

"Neal, don't lie to me. Be honest."

He hesitates. "The first few days, me and Moz exchanged these coded texts to remind me that it was real. I used to dream that I'm at that airstrip and watching the plane explode. Usually Kate is on it, but sometimes it's Mozzie or you…"

He doesn't want to talk about the rest of it, like the flashbacks and nightmares at prison when he could almost feel his body burning. He takes a sip of his wine and stares at the tips of his fingers around the glass.

"And now?" asks Peter.

"I'm better," Neal answers. It's not a complete lie, anyway.

Peter nods and smiles at him. "Good. That's… good."

 _Except the smile doesn't reach his eyes, and he's toying with his beer and everything about the moment feels wrong._

"We're not okay, are we?" asks Neal subduedly.

Peter tightens his grip on the glass. "I understand that you wanted to protect Kate–"

"But I broke your trust. I lied to you, I hurt you in the process and you have every right to be mad–"

"You're damn right I'm mad!"

Neal shies back at Peter's sudden explosion. Mesmerized and intimidated, he watches as Peter starts pacing across the room.

"Yes, you betrayed my trust. I thought you were _grieving_ , I thought Kate was dead, and you know what? Every day you looked me in the eye and lied to me. The whole time, you were going behind my back, meeting with Kate and plotting to run. And that's not even the worst of it."

"Peter–"

"You were going to stage your death. You were actually going to make me believe that you were dead. After Kate, after all we've been through – _how could you?"_

 _Shit._

Seeing Peter's heartbroken expression is like a punch in the gut.

Neal has known that his 'death' would hurt Peter… but he hadn't _known._ He has become so wrapped up and obsessed with Kate's safety that never really realized how deeply his actions would hurt his friend.

It makes him sick.

"I didn't realize…" he says weakly.

"Well, you should have!" Peter snaps at him. "You could have come to me, we could have worked on this together from the start–"

"And how was I supposed to know that?" exclaims Neal. "You told me not to look for Kate!"

"You were a CI in my custody–"

"You thought she wasn't in danger; that I was just pining over the girl who got away – did you even consider that I might be right? Did you check?" Neal realizes his hands are shaking. "So tell me, _how_ was I supposed to know that I could come to you?"

"You would do it all over again, wouldn't you?" says Peter in realization. "You wouldn't change anything."

"No, I would–"

"Don't lie to me–"

"I _would_ , knowing what I know now," Neal stresses out.

Peter shakes his head. "You could have trusted me–"

"–the same way you trusted me about having the music box and about Fowler's mysterious meeting?" asks Neal rhetorically.

"I was trying to protect you," says Peter.

"It was about Kate. You said we were going to do it together… You didn't have the right."

It strikes Neal as ironic that Peter did essentially the same thing as he did with Kate and Copenhagen – same as Neal, Peter simply assumed he knew better and didn't give him a choice.

There is a moment of silence between them.

"Do you blame me from stopping you from stepping on that plane?" asks Peter at last.

"No–"

"I went over it, you know. If I didn't show up, you and Kate could have been gone by now. She may never have gotten hurt."

"Or it was always a trap. I don't think Adler would have left us live after he had the box. Or maybe after he discovered that Kate decided to escape him by using those explosives, we simply became loose ends. You might have saved our lives."

Peter clears his throat. "In that case, I'm glad I got there in time."

"Yeah. Me too."

As they stand by the kitchen table, Neal notices Peter's bottle is empty and wordlessly offers him another beer. He then pours himself one more glass of wine and slips back into his seat. Opposite him, Peter follows his example and takes the second chair.

They've argued and even yelled at each other. Now they have to figure out where do they go from here.

o - o - o

"This thing we're doing, it's not working."

Peter notices the brief flash of panic in Neal's face before he hides it behind a mask of calm. "What do you mean?"

"This. The lies, the cons, hiding things…" Peter takes a gulp from his glass. "I'm your handler and your friend, and you have split loyalties too."

"Peter–"

"We're messing this up."

Silence.

"So what do you propose?" asks Neal at last, his voice tightly controlled.

 _Damned if he knows._

But suddenly Peter has a vision of him and Neal doing this same dance over and over again – the trust issues, the lies, the breaking and making up – and the way it ends is bleak, with jail, ruined careers or worse. Something has to change, but what?

There are many roads to choose from, but only some will bring both of them home safely.

"Do you think we could trust each other?" he asks Neal.

Neal smiles at him. "Of course, Peter–"

"Stop it," _because it's a con smile, and he wants more for them. Not something that's never quite real._

Peter stares at the box on the table. "I could let you keep this."

Neal blinks. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"The anklet jammer. You wouldn't have to go behind my back to see Kate." Peter picks the box up and looks at Neal. "Do you think I could trust you with this?"

"Peter…?"

"There would be rules of course," says Peter, still watching Neal's expression. "For example, if I _ever_ catch you using it for any other purpose than to visit Kate, I'm putting you back in prison. I won't ask if you were casing the Met or simply buying donuts – you don't use it, period. And I need you rested at work, so no more than one worknight a week and only if we don't have a big case." Peter takes a deep breath. "And you're going to be honest with me. We'll work together on catching Adler, but if you hide things from me–"

"You're serious?" asks Neal hoarsely.

 _Is he?_

"I guess I am." He almost asks Neal if he agrees to his proposal, but his friend's expression says it all. For a moment, Peter is hit by doubts – if he's wrong, if this ends up in a disaster –

He doesn't get any further as Neal stands up from his chair and pulls him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you," Neal whispers, trying to blink back tears.

"Can't breathe–"

The pressure around his chest eases a bit, but otherwise Neal doesn't show any signs that he would let go of his hug anytime soon. At last, Peter allows himself to relax as he awkwardly pats Neal's back.

Some time later, he wrestles himself out of Neal's embrace and then stares at him seriously. "I meant all that, Neal."

"I won't let you down."

"If anything happens–"

"Peter, I _won't let you down._ "

Seeing Neal's determination, Peter can only nod.

Whatever doubts he has, there is now no turning back.

o - o - o

Three days later at Mozzie's safehouse, Neal, Peter, Mozzie and Kate watch as Diana pulls the music box out of her bag.

"So far, we had it X-rayed, but we didn't find anything that would make it so valuable."

"We can crack it," says Mozzie thoughtfully.

Neal squeezes Kate's hand before he exchanges a smile with Peter.

It's time to bring Vincent Adler to justice.

 **THE END**

* * *

 _A/N: That's it for now :) There might be a sequel at some point, but I'm not making any promises - it depends on how busy I am with other fics and Real Life._

 _I'd like to thank everyone who has favorited this story or left a review. Also, if you got this far, you probably liked the story, so if you could leave a comment, I'd really appreciate it :)_

 _Have a lovely day,_

 _Lianne_


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